Loving is lonelier than I remember –
the acid beneath my skin lingering longer
now that I wait for you to see it,
hoping you will tell me it is beautiful.
My lips against your shoulder blades
whispering thoughts of me into your bones
that they might surface to your skin
and remind you I have been there.
With arms tight enough around my ribs
my envy cannot grow into my throat
and I am safe in my affections:
I do not want to be where you are not.
I did not remember the loneliness
of loving more than being loved,
of wanting more than being wanted,
or the fear of surrendering myself to my heart,
but I know it now like the nothing in the sky,
and the quiet in the dawn,
in the comfortable singe of whisky,
and the look in your eyes.
(picture by Travshotz Agency: http://fineartamerica.com/featured/lonely-travshotz-agency.html)