I wish he knew how I felt.

I wish he knew that I go to bed every night, longing for the warmth of his body underneath my sheets.

I wish he knew that when I wake up every morning, his face is the one I want to see.

I wish he knew how the smell of his cologne, his shampoo, his sweat, makes me impossibly hard.

I wish he knew how I crave him.

I wish he knew that I can’t picture myself with anyone else. Ever.

I wish he knew that though I haven’t died for him, I would.