I am alone...
I hear a song that makes me miss you.
The singer speaks of a love lost,
his words slicing through the air,
sharp, raw, unforgiving.
A heart broken beyond repair—
is that his, or mine?
I switch the radio off.
I don’t want to hear of love.
I don’t want to think about my lonely life.
I am alone...
I look in the mirror and whisper your name,
a name that burns on my lips,
searing the words I long to speak.
My voice cracks, trembles, breaks,
and I choke on the weight of unsaid truths.
The words disintegrate,
ash on my tongue.
I don’t want to say it aloud.
I don’t want to think about my lonely life.
I am alone...
I imagine your sweat glistening on your back,
droplets alive with sun and earth,
that primal, male scent
overwhelming my senses,
piercing through me like a blade.
It claims me,
invades me.
I throw the window open.
I don’t want to smell you.
I don’t want to think about my lonely life.
I am alone...
I taste the salt of a kiss
that never was,
my tongue tracing the phantom sweetness
of your skin.
Each imagined flavor lingers,
tangy and cruel,
as if I have devoured you whole.
I press a napkin to my lips.
I don’t want to taste you.
I don’t want to think about my lonely life.
I am alone...
My fingers follow the shape of your face,
I am alone... sharp lines of your jaw,
your neck,
your chest.
I feel the heat of you,
the pull of your skin on mine.
You draw me in,
your body becomes my world,
and for a moment, I belong.
Then I push you away.
I don’t want to feel you.
I don’t want to think about my lonely life.
