And then….she left.
I lay-- still, confused, quiet-
Missing her.
Wanting her warmth,
As she talked and said nothing-
Wanting her lips, her skin, her presence.
wanting HER.
wanting her, to be HERE.
It has usually been the case
That after the passion…
I crave solitude.
But she- she left with a smile …
And an excuse.
And suddenly-suddenly solitude is not an old friend
But an endless,endless saddness
Paulbearer Blog (1)