With You It's Different

I'm comfortable

but crawling out of my skin

too scared to touch you

I touched the others,

I touched them a lot,

but with you it's different

with you,

I roll out the plan in my head

of what I'm going to do

I brush the words past my tongue

when I'm alone,

until they become polished

from overuse

abruptly afterwards,

they gather dust

and my face pales in your presence

and the effort was fruitless

my mind doesn't feel the need

because I just like sitting next to you

but my mind wants me 

to run the pads of my fingers

over the tops of your breasts 

before they disappear into your shirt

it wants me to brush my knuckles

against the darkened skin

between your spreading legs

wants me to breathe in

the sound of your little whines

and moans

and pants

but I love you too much

just as I've always been,

I'm petrified to do something wrong

I touched the others,

I touched them a lot,

but with you it's different