Love and intimacy
has been on my mind
a lot lately. More so
than usual, no less than
average. I’m filled with
a great deal of longing for
true intimacy.
Aggressive sex is fine,
but lacking in the softness
true intimacy holds. It’s
bleary eyed compared to
the focused vision of intimate
and gentle loving.
I’ve been thinking about
passion and deeply felt
kisses. The kind of kisses
that send electricity coursing
through your body. The kind of
kisses that make your head feel
lighter and fingertips sizzle
with each anticipated caress
of a lover’s body.
It seems I’m in a
perpetual state of mourning
for the intimacy I’ve lost
along the way in this life.
The long hand holding,
the arms around my chest
from a lover that wants nothing
more than to feel my heart and
see my smiling face as she
looks at me. A lover. A person
consumed with want for me.
And I for her.
I haven’t met any woman
in a long while that wants
to invest in me.
That’s hard to bear.
So I just stumble along,
trying to hide from the longing
with beer and smokes and
bouts of laughter that’s a bit
too loud, but it’s still in there.
The longing.
The wanting.
The desire.
The pain of not being on anyone’s
wanted list.
Cry me a river and
I’ll swim to the shore.
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