((Though this doesn't really say names, the story behind this is a Shikatema, and slightly AU I guess, like they're in an LDR (long distance relationship).))

Is this. . . lust? This deep desire, not to hear you, not to understand you, but to feel you, touch you, breathe you, and live you out like a story. I don't want to talk anymore. I want to tear the wasted time to shreds, I want to use you, to remember what your hair smells like, or to learn how your mouth feels on mine. Do not attempt to call me shallow, for I have made it this far and still bear on the edge of sanity, oh but how my heart calls, with a wrenching sound for you. Not your voice, your picture, your thoughts however treasured, but you. Your silhouette, your walk, the rumble of your voice not in my ears, but cupped in my hands. And I want to engulf you, or have you engulf me. To be immersed as lovers are depicted to be, and not as we are. Separate. I should have never thought myself to be sick of words, for they are my treasures, my feathers, my whims and wings, yet for once they are not enough. Words cannot make skin, they define but do not create. Words cannot make eyes which long to see you, and words cannot hold you for long. They are fragile, watch them break. I feel they are like us, for the silence cuts like a knife to our ropes and chains. It slices at what we cling to, yet do not know how to support.

You feel like parchment to me. You feel like a battered keyboard or thin air slipping from my fingers. I cannot stand this paper doll of sawdust, I cannot stand our minds to be so separate from our hearts. I want your silken hands, I want your brittle smile, I want the way that you look in my eyes. Look at me now, whether it be from across a thousand universes or a simple glance to the left. Look at me, and let me feel you with my mind and my eyes, because my wings and arms are broken.