Frozen Lasagne

yes, i will.

i will lick his neck, which tastes like salt, and i will breathe his neck, which smells like pepper.

and he will be wearing a white under shirt, as his only shirt, as usual.

and it will smell like him, and i will take it off, and press our naked stomachs together.

but the first thing i will do is grab his hairy hand and smell his fingers, because they always, always, always smell the same.

once i smelled my own finger and it smelled ever so faintly of his, and i went into a trance, breathing, until i had breathed all of the smell away.

and i will look in his color changing eyes, and i will envy his very black eyelashes.

i will make him feel the way he needs to so he will show me the dent in his cheek.

and every fantasy i had of him on the way to seattle from pennsylvania, every erotic imagining that took it's turn dominating my thoughts, will finally be.

oh, and they will.