The shower was nice.
warm moisture evaporates from my skin. It’s chilly enough in my bedroom that I can see the steam rise. I stand here, clothed in cotton white panties, braiding my hair. It’s snowy outside; the nearly bloomed trees are also covered in a white cloth
I feel raw as they are
Gasping for a hint of sun

mmm. Springtime.
In the front of my mind is you, again.
My skin is cold. I long to press my soft flesh against your warm body…
Your warmth will bleed onto me. Around me. Within me.
Your soul is a foreign language I am eager to learn. To feel your breath on me,
on my neck
on my waist You, I know
but never have
You, the stranger
You, the muse
I can see our fingertips pressed together
in the snow globe, snow flakes dance, catching our lashes
heads thrown back, listening to it fall down around us
The fingerprints on our pads rub against each other
I laugh at the friction
Sensory whore And there’s vibrations
there is energy Where are you now?
I like the contrast
The smell on your mouth
The color of your skin
The thoughts in your mind My dreams are consumed by you
My days devoured
I value these times alone
with myself Alone With my thoughts
I’m quite creative, you should know.

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