Ready is relative… to the degree to which he makes my tummy turn with butterflies, to which his smile makes me smile, his laugh makes me laugh. To counting the hours, minutes, seconds till I see him again. To his organic ability to challenge me – emotionally & intellectually. To the way he commands my attention with undeniable certainty. To his lips meeting mine in gentle voracity. To his taste and everything that comes with it. To the quiver his touch sends down my honey pot. To the superabundance of hurt I know he’s capable of inflicting, and the fear that he may. And quite assuredly, to the sheer terror of losing him. And finally, to him being my every waking thought & my enduring promise before goodnight.
Ready isn’t a question of when, it’s a question of who.
The Daily 