…when I first heard your voice. You don’t believe me?! I knew you wouldn’t. I was not sure if it was raining at your side. But it was raining on this side. It was raining in my heart. Your voice and the rain - a heavenly blend. I drifted into a world of imaginations where I saw a day that will never come. A day when I will meet you. A day when only you will speak and I will listen. A day for me to quench my thirst for your voice. I would kiss your adam’s apple, move up to your sharp jaw line and then to your lips feeling you with closed eyes. Your words, I want them virgin. I want to swallow every word that you utter. Suck it with my mouth if you utter none. A day when our bodies won’t touch but will only our lips. A day that will never come.
Sing me a song of rain tonight
Whisper me a poem of love
Let me sleep with a dream tonight
A dream of a day that will come…
Note: This is about a passion or more of an obsession for a voice that I listen to that is so striking and soothing. Though the feelings in this post is described as a physical way of absorbing the goodness of the voice that I am in love with, let me tell you, it is purely a psychological thing. Like this one, where it is the opposite.
