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Daydreaming
While sitting in my room, I imagine forbidden fruit: a feather-light touch, barely conveying the words I long to hear. I want you. I need you to want me. I long to see your eyes light up at the thought of a kiss, a touch, and more… Who am I? Does it matter? I am who you want me to be, whether the object of your most secret desire or just a dream of someone you’ve never actually met but about whom you fantasize. Who are you? You are my fantasy, my beloved, my lover. I long for you to whisper...