my little storm cloud - 2000

March 7, 2000 – 3 a.m.

I woke last night to torn stitches
she had been mended to my side
my hands searched in vain a pillow pulled tightly
my body misses what my mind never possessed.

 I used to wake sleep still lingering in my eyes
my lazy fingers caressed her naked back
she smelled of flowers and berries and sweetness
her weight upon me, her cheek nuzzled to my heart
casting away the hollowness
I told myself I didn’t love her
now feathers prick my fingers and I hate myself
for falling
She will never be held
      never be owned
       she will seduce and cast spells
       each victim desperately tightening their grasp
Only to let her slip through their fingers like sand

I sit here and study about friendship
my mind wanders to those times where friendship wasn’t enough
those hungry times where dreams led to feasting
to taste that passion that pulsed through your entire being
to be close enough to hear the whisper of your heart
to get lost in your body
those eyes