sigh

I am sick of disappointment. Specifically, I am sick of people disappointing me. Why do I allow myself to hope that someone may actually be what they say? It keeps kicking me in the teeth and I wonder why I keep getting up.

Anticipation

I close my eyes and begin thumbing through the images of you from last night. I’ve been doing this so often since you left, the corners are beginning to wear. I took them to bed with me as I closed the door behind you. And today they have been my dirty little secrets, hidden from view, as I went about my day. I’ve been savoring them, letting them stroke my skin and brain. Your voice, a temporary salve to this heat you have created. But it’s you I really crave. Your touch and strength. The uncanny way you can read my mind and know what I want and sometimes can’t admit. Your smile and laugh that are so contagious I find myself smiling as I write this. The tease of what’s to come, of what I know I shouldn’t but want to none-the-less. Rules thrown out the window, but knowing inside, I could not have resisted much longer. Missing you.

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