I want to be loved for one night,
then I shall be content in isolation,
comfortable in the lack of weight
on the other side of the bed.
One night, to be kissed brand-new
by foreign lips; a familiar fear
as she leaves her dress on the chair,
and our inhibitions on the floor.
Absence of physical touch, heard words;
no tangible proof I exist, or should exist
at all. I miss the fatigue. Brief sensation,
some energy - our collective heat;
the way we sweat beneath the sheets.
The way you need to call out to me.
I have not heard my name in weeks.
I want to be loved for one night,
then I can return to pollute these pages
with something beyond conjecture,
something worth holding on to.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
I want to be loved for one night,
then I shall be content in isolation,
comfortable in the lack of weight
on the other side of the bed.
One night, to be kissed brand-new
by foreign lips; a familiar fear
as she leaves her dress on the chair,
and our inhibitions on the floor.
Absence of physical touch, heard words;
no tangible proof I exist, or should exist
at all. I miss the fatigue. Brief sensation,
some energy - our collective heat;
the way we sweat beneath the sheets.
The way you need to call out to me.
I have not heard my name in weeks.
I want to be loved for one night,
then I can return to pollute these pages
with something beyond conjecture,
something worth holding on to.
Another 10 minute poem. Will sit down properly at some point soon hopefully.
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