At this moment, and all through the night, I feel mildly ashamed to say I reminisced vividly of times not that far gone. I missed the moments where we had more time to be alone together. Moments where I could take off your shirt and admire the way you seemed to naked and yet so protected by your bra. Moments where I could lay with you and not have a worry in the world. Moments lost in passion, where all that seems to matter is the next breath and the next kiss. I missed the moments where I could strip you down to nothing but your skin and your underwear and I could take you all in from every spot on my skin. I miss laying with you afterwards, lazily talking about this and that despite being mostly naked. The times when you'd simply hold on to me and snuggled so close I could feel your heart beat against my skin as you rested your head against my shoulder.
Strangely, I noticed that nearly all of those moments save some of the more 'bare' have happened again since. They weren't the same, no I wasn't as truly physically close to you as then, yet I found nothing lacking in them when it occured to me. As if we were closer in different ways instead of just physically.
So why is it then that I have a sudden urge to pull your shirt off and lay you down so that I might feel your skin press desperately against mine? Perhaps it is nothing more than a moment of physical lust, not that I mind. It is just unfortunate when those feelings arise at the same time as when I want to smile quietly at you while your hands carefully sketch things both intimate and beautiful or goofy and 'munstery'. Or perhaps its more unfortunate that I feel the urge to have a long conversation with you, teach you how to play chess more, or just sit around and watch tv without actually paying attention, while we are lost in the throes of passion!
Woe be to the mind which cannot make up its mind, forever lost in pensive thought regardless of its actions!