Staring up and counting the slipping bits of my mind
that now seem to dance and flirt with the ceiling cracks,
I breathe deeply the meaning of words
such fickle little things
especially when not spoken in truth
but through the dirty towel of self preservation.
The shutters of my eyes close low
blocking out the sharp twisting of light
as dreams tiptoe inward to the center of me
and cause me to tingle and shutter at the thought
of his flesh next to mine.
Hope laughs loudly at me
as I feel his forgotten hearbeat
and the fantasy unfulfilled of holding him
as he slept homeward bound.
Maybe
what a quick slap and then my windows fly open
and I am faced with the reality
pooling in crimson around my head
that aching will not cease
until I have you.
