I crave you
in ways words could never do justice.
Like my skin was made
to recognize your touch,
like my lungs only learned breathing
through the air you left behind.
Long before I knew your name
my heart already understood
the rhythm of yours,
allowing our beats to fall in sync
whenever we were together.
I crave you
like a bad habit I swore I’d quit
the kind that ruins sleep,
clouds judgment,
and still feels good enough
to run back to.
Every thought of you lingers
slow, heavy, dangerous.
You don’t just cross my mind…
you stay there,
stretched across my silence
like temptation wearing your face.
I don’t just want your body.
I want the version of you
nobody else gets close enough to touch.
The guarded side.
The tired side.
The softness hidden behind your pride.
The side of you
that only showed up
when the world went quiet
and it was just us
trying not to fall apart.
You made chaos feel familiar.
Made heartbreak feel gentle
like loving hands
wrapped around something already broken.
Like self-destruction
dressed up as comfort.
And somehow I still crave it
still crave you.
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