You make me feel wanted.
Like there’s nothing so important you wouldn’t take my call.
Like the touch of your skin on mine is like the charged moment before the shock.
Like I am everything you’ve ever dreamed. And all you’ll ever need.

You make me feel dizzy.
Like I’ve been spinning round in circles as I did when I was a child.
Like I’ve been on the elevator going down with my heart pounding in my chest.
Like I never, never want to stop being here. Being with you.

You make me feel greedy.
Like the cake that never seems to be enough to fill me.
Like I could drown myself in the scent of you and keep going down, gladly.
Like I could be wrapped up in your arms, in your warmth. And want more.

You make me feel sexy.
Like the sway of my hips is a magnet that all the iron in your blood yearns to.
Like the glimpse of the skin of my thigh makes your hands reach out to hold me.
Like I’m the only woman in the world that makes you burn. And I burn too.

You make me feel.
When the days are gray and monotonous, you’re like the warmth from my travel cup.
Like the first taste of your lips on mine, when my eyes slide shut, unknowing.
Like closing the door behind me, home at last. And you waiting, glad to see me.

You make me feel, lover mine and only. And I love you all the more for it.

-Boke O.