Missing You

Platonic friends we are,
knowing there is a line that should not be crossed.
But I can not get it out of my head
the way you touched me.
So attentive to what I needed....
even though it was a massage between friends.
Your hands spoke volumes that your mouth would not.
How I crave your touch now.

Do you even know what you have done to me?

I have lost myself
in the idea of us.
The heat we might create
if only you would give me reason to pursue this lust.

To feel your hands upon me.
To have you make my heart race
as we work each other into a frenzy of sensual passion
each turning the other out as a feral creature
intent on consuming each other.

I will see you again in a week's time.
and I wonder if you think of me
in the spaces between our encounters,
if you crave my touch the way I crave yours,
if you miss me the way I miss you?

Or am I just your friend,
your teacher,
your student;
repulsive to you
by virtue
of the baggage I carry?