Yet Still I Whisper

Yet still I whisper

I want to hold your hand when we walk down the street. 
I want to put my arm around you in movie theaters. 
I want to sit next to you in restaurants, because I can't stand not to touch you.

I want to hug you for no reason, and not let go, no matter who is watching.
I want to stroke your hair, and lightly massage your neck, your shoulders, your back. 
I want to softly kiss your cheeks, eyelids and mouth every time we say goodbye. 
I want to fall asleep in your lap when I don't feel well and know that you will protect me.

I want to know what your heartbeat sounds like, and feels like. 
I want to know what your skin tastes like after you've lain out in the sun. 
I want to look into your eyes by moonlight, and candle light, and in the darkest of night. 
I want everything. 

I want to feel your arms around my neck and your lips at my ear, 
whispering so quietly that I hear your words more by the feel of your lips as they press against me. 
I want to kiss every inch of your body and have you tremble at my touch. 
I want to see your eyes sparkle in the darkness. 
I want to hear you whimper, that soft unbidden sound that only you can make, 
and only I have ever heard.

I want to hold you in my arms where it's just us, 
not in bed, 
not in the room, 
not in the house, 
but in the entire universe. 
Just us. 
Yet still I whisper, lest the very stars overhear. 

"How I love you. How I love you. How I love you."

"that soft unbidden sound"

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