I could feel his desire, feel the need in him.

He hadn't opened it in years, hadn't felt the need.

Just felt the need to post to add my support to the noise.

My need to be with them felt like something deeply, fiercely animal.

But he hadn't felt the need to hide then.

The need to feel that what you do matters.

Never felt the need to move onto another lover.

No need to feel sorry for me when I've come home.

"And I understand the need to feel as if we're doing something, striking back."

But that only lasted a short time, a couple of years, before I felt the need to speak.