Like You Do

I've tried to imagine
growing tired of
the taste of your kiss
or the feel of your skin
resting against mine
- the way your hands
fit perfectly in the
small of my back

fear of loss
motivates this exercise
to pad the scapegoat landing
if ever the floor
falls out of our love
it's to prepare myself
because my past
is a field of wilted flowers
all, once beautiful

it's exhausting trying
to generate the need
for options or back up plans
when I can't begin
to even imagine
the day that loving you
stops making sense
or when someone else
becomes more desireable

all my investigation
only further solidifies
my original conclusion:
nobody's hands electrify me
no one's kisses grow my hunger
and no other
could ever fill me
like you do