I miss you because you were the last man to kiss me
Although I can’t recall the creases in your lips…
I remember what it felt like to be kissed again
Be still my errant…loins
I felt insipidly alive!
But your hands…your hands did not cup my face
Griping the joints at my hips and bending me in half
I moved them to the smallest part of my stomach the place where I fold my own hands.
You accused me of mooning over fairy tales.
But what I wanted from you was even more far fetched
I wanted to be touched intrinsically
Touched the way paint meets the canvas
It was nothing new to be let down
I tried to take in stride as a modern career women
You can have it all you just can’t have it all at once…
I asked you for more, in the way of the modern woman
And I suppose you acted like the modern man
Leaving me to a persona in grey
Unfriended in the most barbaric way
Why did you leave me burning?
Nostalgia is smoke I inhale
I’m tittering almost falling on the floor
I forgot what it felt like to be wanted
Now I’m dizzy with want
If I fall, I won’t weep
I’ll fantize about having my back pressed against the floor
There is something about lying from shoulder blade to the small of your back
The sharp edges of your hips convex and greeting shadows
I never shared that with you…
I couldn’t possibly miss it…
Your face fits…
Even as I seek sweat instead of tears
Your face fits in the meantime.