Letter to a Lover

This week I'm posting something a little different from my normal uber-hardcore memoirs. Sometimes I go on stints, when I get into the mood of it, and write supremely poetic words that are deeply rooted from within me.

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Here I can whisper words unheard....

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If I was lying in this bed, my eyes reflecting all the light in the dimly lit room and my mind wandering to places of amorous need, would you come and be the salve to my desires?

If when I moved beneath the covers and more of my skin would be exposed by the shifting sheets and my movement stirred something within you, would you feel what I feel? Could you come to me and cradle me with all you were, your skin touching mine and making a quiet fire between us. Could you make me crave you with just one touch?

I can imagine a moment in time where my body becomes liquid while pondering thoughts of carnal contact and possession and where time seems like just a void; the caress is all that matters. I’m here though, my physical self in need of something I can’t give it alone. I can feel the coolness of the air trying to creep onto my skin while I hide beneath sheltering sheets, my face pressed to the soft mattress.

I can feel you near me, yet you’re not within my grasp and so all is silent around me and my mind presses on. I can hear your steps and the movement of your before bed chores on the other side of the door, it feels like you could be miles away though, yet I can just imagine your mind racing too. I feel I would do anything to be the light that envelopes you in that other room, to be able to be near you and all around you like a second skin and being the one to guide you in the darkness. I stretch and move all by myself, making a grand show of all the contact my skin is receiving from the lifeless pillows I lie sheltered in. A valley of cotton holds my body and feels my touch like a silent sentinel in white.

I close my eyes as I rub the back of my hand across my lips, letting the smallest bit of flesh from the end of my tongue gain access to the outside world. All is slow and the reception of sensory information, my body is a satellite to all the sensation life can produce.

I roll and let my hair spill over my face, a life-filled veil concealing me in sudden darkness and solitude. Here, I can hear my own breathing as if it were the only sound in the void. I whisper slow words to myself that are of no consequence but for my ears to hear. In silence, the world is never truly devoid of sound, it just beats its force of life upon your sensitive ears, letting you know of the pulse beyond your own.

The machine of the body is never quiet.

Every breath here has a purpose in my long wait for you. It may have been minutes or years since I left you to lie in wait in my own skin here in the dark cave of the bed. I can feel my body hum to the very thought of your hand upon me, a small gasp escaping and my body responding with a slow movement that catches me off guard. Even alone you are here, next to my skin.

I can feel the way I do when I can smell your scent and lie in anticipation waiting for a chance to press my lips to the warmth of your skin. I think of all the times and ways you’ve possessed me before but each time gives way to a biting sense of newness and a thrill I can contain only under the guise of a smile. If you could live in my space and feel what I do when you’re under my skin, you would feel the pounding of unheard sounds and the sensation of touches yet to be given.

I become lost and have to remember my body is in the world and not just in my mind; I’m taken out of myself and have to concentrate hard to get back in.

I sigh just for the sound of it and for want of a companion in my waiting. My own breath is my friend while I lie in wait for you.

My body moves in an unhurried movement and my hands seem ripe for investigation; the half light makes them seem unreal and not my own. I try to see myself as the creature you see when you look down upon me, my eyes too large and my mouth too small. I drag my nails down my thighs in punishment for not loving myself as much as I should in the instant I thought of this. If only every moment I spent I could feel what you feel when your eyes meet mine.

I’m getting lonely now thinking of you and the fact that your warm skin isn’t next to mine. My own body has ceased to be enough entertainment and I long for new stimuli. I hear your voice call out to me and I imagine I feel now as someone having their thirst quenched after finding themselves lost in a desert.. I can sense that you’re coming ever nearer.

I grip the sheet for the movement of it while I listen to you making your way toward my haven. I breathe in and forget to let it go for the briefest of seconds but already the action has made me drugged. As the door opens I see your frame silhouetted within the yellow light of the hallway behind it and I think again: it is better to be in this body than to be that light around you, for within this body you can take me and make me yours.

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