The Chance To Touch You
by C. Rousse

To lay my hand against the hard contours of your shoulder,
Run my fingertips and palm over one strong, beautiful arm,
Or press my mouth to the firm line of your jaw.
Anticipating impossibilities
The chance to touch you so,
Even so innocently and simply.
So very male, and intense,
Hard, and unapproachable,
But then,
In the briefest moment before you cast your eyes away,
did I see...
The smallest measure of tenderness, weakness?
And all I can think of is touching you;
To thread my fingers into your hair,
To feel the hardness of your knee beneath my hand,
Or feel the hardness of your strong thigh beneath me;
I want...I want...I don't know.
Those parts of a man that are so commonly sexual,
I don't look,
They don't matter,
I couldn't care less!
It's all of these other parts that make you so beautiful
The combination of that beauty
And the intensity in your eyes
That make me so very,
Too much,
More than I should be aware of you.
And all I want...what do I want?
To touch you,
As innocently as placing my hand on yours.
To be close to you,
As simply as to just lean into you,
Rest my head upon your chest,
Your arms around me,
And nothing more.
But, that said, what now?
Just to wait,
To wait upon forever
Anticipating impossibilities
The chance to touch you.