Waiting, watching. Watching, waiting
This anxious feeling not abating.
Look,admire from a far.
Continued friendship goes unmarred.
Hidden deep from certain eyes
I continue with my friendship guise.
Secret yearnings do withold,
Deeper feelings yet untold.
Wishing, hoping, dreaming, wanting.
Leaves me with a burning haunting.
Can't afford to be let loose,
It stays inside this love recluse.

Softly lover speak to me
whispered words of fantasy.
keep me in the dark no longer
reveal your secret hidden hunger

I am yours and you are mine
Within those bounds there are no lines
Speak to me of secrets deep
Place them in my hands to keep

we shall lie in state of wonder
let no other put asunder
thoughts and dreams that we do share
ours alone for us to bear.

secrets that you hide from all
stashed away behind your wall
open up and set them free
soflty lover speak to me.

Scents of campfires fill the head,
His arms around her, nothing said.
Kisses on the nape of neck,
Over cheeks to lips that peck.

Staring at the raging fire,
His lips create a warm desire.
Hands that once moved soft now clench,
Desperate with a thirst to quench.

Soft onto a blanket fall,
The nighttime stars observe it all.
Inch by inch more skin exposed,
Touching now from head to toes.

Whispers spoken, tongues they meet,
All the while rising heat.
Heart to heart now, skin to skin,
She opens up and lets him in.

Moving bodies sweat and glisten,
Together touching, shocking frisson.
Frantic now they glide as one,
Reaching out for what's to come.

Gasps and sighs of pure delight,
Basking in the firelight.
Crickets chirping, fire's burning,
Sated now that desperate yearning.

Naked still they snuggle close,
Kisses soft, fingers coast.
Gently into sleep they slide,
Lovers under nighttime sky.

Sometimes from the darkest depths of me come thoughts of you.

These thoughts invade my solace and render me unable to function.

My mind drifts away to times and days of past and my body aches to know what was.

This fantasy engulfs me.

It slips and slides through me picking up where I last left off.

It takes me there to that place, that place I wanted you to go.

It enters me again and again.

I struggle breathless and without strength until I can do nothing more but watch.

With no more fight left you consume me.

Every nerve, every part of me is yours.

I lie helplessly but without fear as I wait to see where you will take me.

With every second my anticipation grows and I feel as though you will never come.

Softly, I start to feel your presence.

Your fingers drop upon me like the morning dew on blades of grass and I glisten.

Your hands hold onto me as you delve deeper and deeper into my fantasy.

With every move I fear the end is coming near.

Pleasure erupts as my dream climaxes and I awake to find myself alone once again.

I sift through my remaining thoughts and what was left of my engery quickly fades.

I turn over in my bed and fall asleep hoping to find the darkest depths of me, so I can come to thoughts of you.

I am in one of those moods again. You know the ones where you want to wallow in self pity and depression even though you have nothing to be depressed or wallow about? Does it sound weird that I love these times?? I remember being 16, 17 and just sitting alone in my room and listening to Disintegration by The Cure. I would write horrible teenage love poetry and just exist in this rare realm that allows one to be depressed yet satisfied at the same time. Of course now, at 33, I can add a few beers to the mix and it makes the angst a little more poignant. Truly there is nothing wrong with me. I am happily married and the mother of two. However, at times like these, I yearn for that extra something. Maybe it's the latest book I'm reading or a recent musical purchase that causes me to fantasize and wonder about different avenues I might have tread. They're never real yearnings. I don't fantasize that I am divorced or that my husband has died, nothing like that. I become engrossed in this parallel universe where a woman not much different than myself lives an emotionally charged romantic existence. The names and faces change each time but I am captivated by the story. I want to hide away and play them out in my head. I wish not to be bothered.

It's funny what brings these episodes on. Sometimes, it's a book or a song like I said. This time it is a voice. This one, perfect singing voice that is filled with such unabashed yearning that it causes me to question my own happiness. To think that I should have that voice yearning for me instead of being comforted by the love I am already gifted with. Does music affect everyone like this? Am I alone in my weakness? It has always been this way. I can become lost in a song or a voice and be completely content in my predicament. I think that any random individual would find this disturbing or unusual to say the least. To think that a self-inflicted depression would be at all therapeutic is ludicrous to most no doubt. To me it's cathartic. This voice, this one voice that has me enthralled at the moment is like an addiction. I must hear it. I must expand on the emotions I hear and create this world and story in my head. Tomorrow I might be back to trotting along in public approved bliss. Today I am citing and reciting the most romantic story that never was.