Did you miss me, as I have of you? Do I leave here? Pack and run for there is nothing here. Sleeping here is almost easy. An illusion more bitter afterward than the fact. Will you have me? Remembering your hands on me, the power of those fingers inside my body. And to realise afterwards in your gentleness that it was passion, that you could be so strong because of your tenderness. I miss you.

- philoism