What It Use To Be

The midnight air is damp with rain water. The air is thick. It's 11:30pm but it feels like 3 AM. My dreams are calling me but I can't sleep. The intensity of my yearning for his touch is that deep. I shift to one side, still uncomfortable I change positions again. Eyes red like I've been out drinking. Haven't done my hair in weeks. It lay in a calamity atop of my head in a clamp. I lay ******** of any clothing on top of my sheets. I take long showers because I love the feeling of the water cascading down my bare skin. The pulses of the shower head is the next best thing to his arms being around me. Still, I lay next to my daughter wondering if he's thinking about me like I of him. I wanna throw a tantrum because it's been 2, almost 3 weeks. I need to touch him. If only for a second. I would spend most of my days and all of my nights nestled in his embrace if I could. Breathe in his cologne, don't know it by name but it smells familiar to me. I miss his crazy laugh and his rude comments. I miss the gentleness that exudes from him when he's around me. My body just relaxes like he is the answer to all of my fears, my problems, like the answer to all my prayers are within him. I long to intertwine my fingers between his and touch the veins that protrude from them. Or wrap my legs around his for the extra closeness. I'd love the ***** away all my clothing and sleep in one of his t-shirts with his scent on it. And we could watch movies or act silly together. Talk about stuff. But he's not here. And I can't do any of that. So my hopes diminish into something as small as a text message saying that he loves and misses me. And until he's here, i guess I'll have to spend my nights tossing and turning and pouting....
RageRed RageRed
22-25, F
1 Response Dec 4, 2012

They censored "str1pp3d" (although not written like that) and "str1p"