Hope, She Calls It

If only, I sigh, with the wind of desperation that escapes me loosely. Staring into a tiny dot on my computer screen, knowing that perhaps, you feel I'm looking at you.

It's terrifying. Joyful and terrifying. To be so connected with someone so intangible. You hardly exist, in a realistic sense.

What I would give to feel you, for at least one moment. To hold you inside of me. To know that your pulsating heart does so next to mine. To feel those hands, those beautiful hands, as they firmly grip my hips. To feel your breath, moist and warm, on my neck, condensing with sweat and heat. The roughness of your facial hair grazing my collarbone.

Two lips, meeting mine, in a rushed flurry of tongues and passion. I'd whisper to you, and allow my words to fall inside of you. I'd pray they leapt across your heartstrings in the same fashion your words leap across mine. How I long for that one blessed moment when my skin can touch yours.

Instead I take solace in the sole fact that you are alive and breathing every day. Knowing that you traipse across the surface of this earth, the same as I, is enough. If only for now.

Do you think of me when you stare at the expansive cyan sky and know that I, just like you, stand below its vast greatness thinking of you?

Do you think of me when you stand amidst a blossoming forest and wish that I can be there with you?

Do you think of me when you are alone, and just as I do, do you long for that day when we can at least be in the same room as one another?
I cannot see you, I cannot touch you. Within the deepest chambers of my heart and within the very breadth of my soul, I do believe I can still feel you moving about. Restless and longing, just like me.

I miss you.

And I don't even know who you are.