It’s hard to stop reaching out when you’re so used to being free to touch.
It’s hard to stop his hands when you’re so used to expecting him to make contact.
But wait…How can a habit form, when there’s no history there?Just like BB King and the sultry Peggy Lee Once a habit forms–its hard to get free. At first I thought it innocent enough random, girlish thoughts of you made me smile, they often made me blush… But this is not innocent at all. Its turning me into second-guessing How does one express to a guy she knows that a physcial Jones is festering? Physically this is no game How exactly do I make it plain– that I can’t breath you in and not desire to reach out, to touch to ensure that your feelings are the same. My pheromones , your Ecto-hormones calling us to both pursue I can’t give in… because if I do, it’ll belittle my truth: that the outer man’s nature is sexual desire a carnal liquor–180 proof. Yet still I admit, I do have a need so with a resonable space i mention merely to give heed of Fingertips that tingle from want. a body that tingles from expectancy. I’m anxious because anything farther than arm’s lengh is indeed too far away from you it seems. With all things so new, how could i be this aware of you? A Strapping young felllow; trying hard to keep him at bay I confess, A new desire, a wanting need a habit i never knew I had, I’d say. (C) KD Tarte