F is for: Frigid Sensitivity

I lay awake thinking of you.
But I really shouldn't say that.
I think about your complicated mind,
and I let myself get lost in it.
I think about where it wanders to when there is contemplative silence,
And that distant look in your eyes that draws me in.
But what good is it to say so.
I have an impossible urge to talk to you,
All.The.Time.
When I wake up- I refrain.
I'm terrified I'll tell you I dreamt of you again.
And I get how annoying that is.
I have a strange desire to be close to you.
Possibly too close.
Most likely too close.
And I can imagine lying in your lap telling you about my messed up thoughts,
Trailing my fingertips along your leg absent-mindedly.
However there is no need for you to know the fantasies in my head.
I fight to stay awake, your voice in my ears, face on the back of my eyelids,
And a small feeling of connection;
I am sometimes content.
I worry that we will go on like this forever and I'll just be to afraid.
Always wondering.
Always dreaming.
Thinking endlessly of you but never moving.