I am arrested by the beauty once more,
held enraptured by those eyes
blazing out of his photograph.
His lips entice me,
my fingertips longing to run their length,
to feel the softness of the skin there.
My tongue begs to taste the dip of his collarbone,
to taste the salt of his skin.
If only once I could stand close to him
to smell the essence of his person
as it assaults my senses from all angles.
For now I must be satisfied
to only hear his voice
as it seduces me, enchants me,
pulling me farther down into this emotion.
Oh, to be the one he might fall for.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017