(Again, I implore you to listen to this magnificent song; Bloodstream by Stateless.)

I've spent my time in a newly-erected bookstore today.

The Latest Releases, Autobiographies, South African History titles filling the open space with that alluring new-book scent.

Soft glow of lights illuminating all of the stories I am eager to read.

A coffee bar. Places to sit immersed within pages.

Browsing readers, newly-appointed salespeople. My favourite folk lurk within the maze of aisles in a bookstore.

I envision finding you  in one. I would amble around a corner, enchanted by the vast variety of pristine novels. You would be standing. Or leaning on your haunches. Transfixed by a book in your hands. Maybe it would be an anthology of poetry. Perhaps a venerated classic. A crime thriller. A self-help guide.

I'd love you for whatever you choose to read.

I would step back ever-so slightly upon spotting you . A breath hastily leaving my lips.

You would hear me in the quiet of the corner.

Turquoise eyes rise to connect with mine.

Surprise registers. An eyebrow lifted. Blonde hair haphazard.

A pleasing grin brightens your features.

You slowly place the book back onto the shelf without removing your eyes from my own.

You hesitantly step forth towards me, closer now our forms recombine in a soul-compressing embrace.

The heat of your azure t-shirt clad body warming me. Arms encircling taut backs, muscles rippling from standing on guard.

I'll nestle my face into your neck, feel your stubble and know my wanderlust is now quenched. I've found home.

You would inhale deeply the scent of my hair. You would at last reach sober tranquillity. 

We would remain this way until our lips grew lonesome and our hands urgent.

You release me to brush your toughened fingers against my soft skin.

Uneven breaths of mine, trembling fingertips of yours.

Simultaneously closing eyes.
Weathered lips meeting.
Discordant minds quelling.
We become entangled in each other once more.

I lust for a literary love.