What Would It Take

It would take a man with rough hands that’s to lift my spirits. I huge man with wide shoulders and an immense chest that I could burrow my head in until all of this was gone. Gone away for ever. His hands would be on my back holding me tenderly to him. A limp and spent fabric doll, no strength left, all that I would be able to do would be to let my head fall back and be consumed with kisses all over my neck. I can almost smell him, he would smell of cologne, spicy/sweet and maybe a tiny bit of sweat. I want someone to feel me again, know me, all my secrets, I want to melt into oblivion for hours. Hands and fingers touching me, feeling me, massaging my aching flesh. How my skin hurts, waiting in anguish for human touch.
Floating under your warm body I am starving for sustenance so I arch my hips to meet yours. You have the power to release these pains that have been controlling my body. My lungs will be full of air, a sensation that has been lost for years, I will hold my shoulders back to let more air in them and to let more of you on me. What is this feeling in my head? The vice that was squeezing my brain is gone, the rope around my neck does not burn, my shoulders have released neck and my neck has released my head. They can flow easily. No longer are they a single, solid unit. Strands of ribbon have become my arms, free from their tyrant Stress. I do not know where I end and you begin. I am consuming you.
A willowy, wispy figure in smoke is rising and swirling around. That is me, passion flowing outwards to wrap around you and hold you to me. I am bringing you into my folds, experiencing you inside, outside of me. You think you are taking me but it is I who is taking you. My spirit cloaks you with warmth and love. This passion cannot be without love. You must love me as I do you, open you eyes, look at me, speak with your eyes while you are consuming me.