Alone and Unkissed

I have kissed you in my dreams.

Your fingers pressing into me like notes to a guitar.

Your lips wet against my own, sweet with whispered promise.

The pain of loss numbing beneath your touch.

Hope blossoming within me as the arms of true understanding wrap around me.

The warmth of your requited affection curling my toes.

Minutes slipping into meaninglessness with infinity beheld between us.

I have kissed you in my dreams.

It is only when I wake, alone and unkissed, that I wonder if it is a nightmare.

What Am I to You?

Kisses trickle from my ear down my neck

Across my shoulder

Past my breasts

Your cologne clouds around me and I am home.

My fingers are lost in your hair somewhere. Small moans slip beyond their trap but they make more urgent your already earnest grasp.

You are throbbing and I am throbbing and our pulses beg to beat as one.

My legs stretch open for you without conscience thought.

You have always been the one my heart can never resist. The one my body can never deny.

You lift me in their air as if to exclaim my powerlessness and I am weightlessly in love.

But then I wake up.

And you are a dream. Twisted into reality to torture me. To drive me mad for what I so desperately crave but can never have.

An illusionary, inescapable truth.

What am I to you?

Picture from @darkbeautymag on instagram

I Cannot

Your hand is open and waiting for mine, though I have it lodged tightly in my pocket.

 

You tell me you love me and I reach for the words, but my lips are sealed like a locket.

 

I know it hurts, the crushing weight of everything I’ll never say.

 

I know the days grow longer and your heart more weary, yet you insist it to be worth the wait.

 

I do not wish upon you shame.

 

Or disappointment.

 

Or an ounce of heartache.

 

Yet still I stand before you, wiping the hopelessness from your face.

 

You beg, you cry, you plea but I never promise to change.

 

You are so beautiful.

 

With your hair sleek black like a ravens back

 

With the green eyes of a cat monitoring me as I move

 

Your arched back, your bent shoulders

 

Your lips as they slip into words that bring me closer..

 

Is it not enough to live in these magical moments?

 

Is it not enough to still my unabating thoughts?

 

I cannot give you more, my beautiful girl, I cannot.

The Offering

He is on his knees.

His palms are held out in sacrifice, crimson drips from between his fingers as the organ he is offering pulses with viability.

His eyes are on me, begging.

I walk a careful circle around him. My boots make an antagonizing clap against the pavement. The organ dances in retaliation.

“Shhh…” He whispers to it.

“No, please let it beat,” I ask.

He does.

I continue to pace around him, biting my lip thoughtfully.

“What do you want in return?”

“I just want you to love me,” his voice is meager, weak, pathetic, beautifully tragic and crazily codependent.

“What is there left to love, once you’ve given the very essence of your being to me?” I point at his heart in his hands, its thump still vibrant with promise.

“What is there for me if I offer you nothing at all? A life of ‘almost’s? A series of disappointments and unmet expectations? I’d cut off my limbs! My tongue! My eyes! It is nothing to carve out my heart, so long as I have your promise it will be beside you always, to sleep to your silence and wake to your charm.”

I stop my routine pace and collapse to a bended knee. “You are crazy to love me,” I remark staring deeper than ever into the brown of his eye, hunting for even a flicker of hesitation but found only delusion and certainty.

“You know what makes me crazier?” He places his cupped hands, still dripping, inside mine. Curiosity is clear in the tilt of my head. “I actually believe that someday you’ll love me too,”

Every messy beat of his heart is like a quick kiss. Every splatter of blood from my palms to the ground, a composed symphony. Every second in between is an eternity of unrequited love.

His smile grows brighter as his face fades paler. A moment of concern sweeps over me, “Are you sure?”

“See, you’ve begun to love me already,”

His body slaps against the concrete like a thousand pairs of boots, echoing inside my head as if we had met in a canyon.

His heart, his love, his sacrifice, his offering.. It lives on in my hands. It is beside me always.

I love him more with each waking sun.