I Want . . .

I want to fill my fingers
running through his hair.
I want him to look at me
as if I'm the only thing there.

I want to feel his chest,
his bareness, his soul.
I want to be his reason
for living, the single and sole.

I want to explore his mouth
with my inexperienced tongue.
I cannot live without him;
he is my second lung.

I want him to be mine
but he sees me as air.
I love him so much,
yet he doesn't care.