Why does this happen? We are two people. We felt that hot streak, that passion…the flame. But now I’m here, at this crossroads standing alone. I’m staring at your blurry figure, masked by the dust. I don’t know what happened to the whispered forevers and wet kisses beneath the covers. You were the…
Why does this happen? We are two people. We felt that hot streak, that passion…the flame. But now I’m here, at this crossroads standing alone. I’m staring at your blurry figure, masked by the dust. I don’t know what happened to the whispered forevers and wet kisses beneath the covers. You were the different one. But after all this time, was I just seeing a mirage?
Were you really a fantasy?
I’m here, standing at the crossroads, looking at you through the dust. Will you grasp my hand and pull me towards your side?
Laying under the covers and I see your sleeping form. Your face is so peaceful, so at rest. I slip my hand into yours and you don’t even move a muscle. Can it be that I will be looking at you, just like this, in a year…two…ten…fifty? Your hair is mussed and your lips are slightly parted. The scent of you cascades off my pillows. I brush my fingers against your knuckles and your eyelids flicker. I hope you are having dreams about me, about us. In that moment, all that matters is your sleeping form, and that I couldn’t imagine being with any other person in the world.
Gentle last kiss as we say our goodbyes-until tomorrow. But tomorrow is my last day with you. And I’m convinced you are right. Actually, convinced is a bad word. Instead, I’ll say I know you’re just right. Somehow you told me you’d love to get the chance of seeing my wrinkles and gray hair when I’m sixty, and I had the urge to run. But that’s why it’s different…
I run towards you.
It’s raining, and I think think this is supposed to be a good sign. I hollowed out the place next to me, where you sleep. But you’re not here. The rain is. So I just lay here and watch the shadows dancing through my window as a soft breeze caresses my cheek. That could’ve been your hand. So I’m left here, thinking the rain is a good sign, when nothing seems good in me. Or you.
Crumbs in my bed, I see. I shake them off, wipe it down. I’m expecting you. So I look at the mirror, at that face, and only I can see the need there. There’s that basic need for love and acceptance. And it’s in the pupils, the iris, and the emotion that passes through. The only way I know how to…
You are the kiss of sun on my alabaster back and the presence of rain on a warm day.
I can feel you.
You are the painting breeze that brushes the hollow of my neck.
I can feel you.
You are the laughter in a room full of long lost friends that wish to keep this moment forever.
I can feel…
The muffled heartbeat rings in my ears. It reminds me that I’m home. It whispers that I’m still alive. It gently prods me to keep moving step by step. Yet somehow, I don’t listen. I lay in the sorrow that astounds me. I thought I’d run far enough. Yet here it is cat-calling to me once again. I…
The pads of his fingers
Caress the inner workings
Of my soul
When his fingertips
Trail down my back
My body involuntarily
A soft moan escapes my lips.
His feather-like kisses
Rain down on my neck
And a chill runs from my nipples downward
I run my fingers through