"What would it be like to kiss those lips?"

I wondered silently.

Would they be as cold as ice or burn like fire?

Would I survive their touch?

Would I be consumed and turned to ash

if they were offered to me in passion?

Or would I wither away

if they remained cold and inflexible,

reminding me of the impossibility of this newfound attraction?

Attraction.

That was too weak of a word.

Desire was better. Desire. Craving. Obsession.

That's what it was,

an all consuming lust to feel them, taste them.

Something that drove me insane,

made me endure the harsh,

stinging comments that fell from the same lips I yearned to kiss.

A thirst that drove me mad when I could see their desire

but not touch

and madder still when even that much was denied.
 

Človeška Lučka