Quotes About Yearning

Pierce dreamed about a sunny day and Hal, dressed in a white linen shirt and dark cotton trousers, offering him a flower and a kiss, in an almost perfect world.

I miss you," he gasped into Kelly's chest. "Oh God. I miss you so much." Kelly moaned—not a sexy moan, a sad one—and they were both crying, kissing, tasting salt and sex on each other's skin as the final, more painful crest hit them both.

Damn, Trav wanted this, had barely dared dream of it, yearned for the time Mackey Sanders would be old enough, whole enough, well enough, to possess like this, like a man, an equal, a partner.

But he carried that thing, that pixilated fuck-off-and-love-me thing into the music.

Finger me?" he begged, breathlessly. "A little spit, a little poke-e-ta poke-e-ta? Please?

Ellery couldn't ask for anything more. In his entire life, he couldn't recall ever wanting anything with the purity and the passion that he wanted time, so much more time, with Jackson.

Clay made a noise previously unheard in human history and spread his legs wide to give Dane access to any part of him Dane wanted to fondle, grope, or suck—including his soul, should his soul reside among any points south, especially, especially, his cock.

I opened my heart, it filled with love, with sex, with power, with new. With every door I pulverized, I knew I'd be missing you.

For a moment in time, Bobby didn't exist. Nothing existed but these two souls, reconnecting, learning the feel and taste of each other all over again. Bobby watched them, entranced, and swallowed. He wanted that. He could have that. He could have that with Reg.

I missed you like I'd miss a lung, a kidney, and my right hand.

Mikhail opened his mouth generously, and that was a first, and Shane fell into that sulky mouth like a bird falls into the sky.

He'd seen interviews—the way Cheever Sanders had looked at Blake Manning had made him yearn for things he'd never voiced to himself before.

Le labbra di Walter erano dolci, ma il bacio troppo breve. Non si poteva far stare una vita intera in un singolo incontro di labbra, anche volendo.

And then Spencer did a surprising thing. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, like someone starving for it, someone who'd needed tenderness all his

When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum....

I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against The want of you; Of squeezing it into little inkdrops, And posting it.

I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against The want of you

You lie upon my heart as on a nest, Folded in peace, for you can never know How crushed I am with having you at rest Heavy upon my life. I love you so You bind my freedom from its rightful quest. In mercy lift your drooping wings and go.

Vernal Equinox The scent of hyacinths, like a pale mist, lies between me and my book; And the South Wind, washing through the room, Makes the candles quiver. My nerves sting at a spatter of rain on the shutter, And I am uneasy with the thrusting of green shoots Outside, in the night. Why are you not here to overpower me with your tense and urgent love?

My eyes ache with the weight of unshed tears. You are my home, do you not understand?

The Taxi When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum. I call out for you against the jutted stars And shout into the ridges of the wind. Streets coming fast, One after the other, Wedge you away from me, And the lamps of the city prick my eyes So that I can no longer see your face. Why should I leave you, To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?

Aubade" As I would free the white almond from the green husk So I would strip your trappings off, Beloved. And fingering the smooth and polished kernel I should see that in my hands glittered a gem beyond counting. Decade When you came, you were like red wine and honey, And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness. Now you are like morning bread, Smooth and pleasant. I hardly taste you at all for I know your savour, But I am completely nourished.

The Wheel of the Sun" I beg you Hide your face from me. Draw the tissue of your head-gear Over your eyes. For I am blinded by your beauty, And my heart is strained, And aches, Before you. In the street, You spread a brightness where you walk, And I see your lifting silks And rejoice; But I cannot look up to your face. You melt my strength, And set my knees to trembling. Shadow yourself that I may love you, For now it is too great a pain.

A Lover" If I could catch the green lantern of the firefly I could see to write you a letter. Poetry: A Magazine of Verse 1912–22. Edited by Harriet Monroe. (Chicago: 1912–22; New York: Bartleby.com, 2011)