You fancy me a lover

I find it hard to write to you,
of you, about you ever.
There's not a lack of thoughts,
but more, a swelling of them.

Forgive me, for I'm blunt.
And poetry, is but a hobby.
I crave your sweet drawn words,
and quite glances in the lobby.

For your exploring hands
have nearly just begun,
yet every touch is conscious,
played off as simple fun.

And you were right to say;
You fancy me a lover.
For that is what I am.
The craving's hard to cover.

I'd like to say it's easy
looking in your eyes,
But truly you must know,
that lust lies down inside.

It can not be, I know it.
But I do like you near
caressing, with a gentle touch,
my lonely rounded knee.