Monday, 18 January 2010


Touch me,
I've ached for your touch for so long.
Run your hands down my arms;
The touch of your fingertips feels like balm
To the wound made by our parting.
Oh, God, how I've missed you;
How I've yearned,
All this time
Just to be with you;
To touch you,
To hear your voice.
I love you more than life itself.
More than living; more than being;
More than breath.
I love you with all that I am,
And to be without you is to lose my soul.
So if you go,
As you have to go,
For a day, or a week, or a month;
Then go.
And hurry back, my love.

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