Thoughts

I thought about you. I thought about you. Is it possible that we could be something? Your conversation told me "Yes!" I ebb and flow between the right and the wrong, knowing I shouldn't want you as mine. You told me that you dream of me. My heart explodes. Did you really think of me? Can you see us together, being a we that I've wanted us to be. God, am I wrong to hurt for him? Am I supposed to ache for the look of him and burn for the touch of him? I give no pretense and tell what I feel. Does this excite you? Does it make the hairs on your thighs stand up at the thought of me placing my tongue there? No woman should want a man so much, it's animalistic and depraven. Should I tell you that your words wash over me and become music to my skin like a violinist playing his last concerto, glad for the chance to meld and mold. My fingers tingle as I type this, mybeing releases nectar that runs streams for you.

Doubt

Could I be getting over you? Am I free from the spell you have cast over me? When you left me Friday, I thought my heart would implode leaving a vast void which was once so full, mostly of you. I lay and cried and prayed for the strength to pray for the courage to pray to get over you. Was it pain that caused you to speak to me that way? Were you just aching as I was as soon as I saw that you were agonizing? Am I supposed to feel this wretched? Is that how love is defined? Must the hurt sear through your body like a hunter's arrow does through its prey? I haven't talked to you in a week. Just now was my first time thinking of you. I try to conjure up the good I know we once had but all I see is the last time I saw your face. Pain, but not pain because of your separation from me. Pain, veiled by your polarized shields that wouldn't allow the world to see what lay behind them. I managed to smile and drive away and thanked God for the strength that gave me the courage to not turn around and go after you.

Pain

I haven't talked to you in days. I'm missing the sound of your voice. I'm hurting at the thought of not being able to talk to you again. Are you missing me as much as I miss you? Does the mere idea of not hearing my voice weaken you? Tears are threatening to fall from my eyes at any minute. I try my best to keep them in, fearful that once they start I will have no way of stopping them. How do I go on doing me without you being a part of it? How do I look at anythiing the same when I won't be able to view it through your eyes? I don't know how I'll even be able to breath knowing I can't pick up the phone and call you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I don't miss anything or anyone and I miss you. What hurts the most is I don't know if you're missing me.

Magical

I lay looking at the ceiling fan as it pulsated and cooled the area that was just torched by your touch. Every cell in my being is wide awake screaming "Rejoice" for the release you have just given them. FUCKING, that wondorous action that heals wounds, rights wrongs and just feels so damn good. That's what you did to me tonight.