I wait, transparent, beautiful and worn as an ancient piece of fine lace. My jealousy searing out through my eyes at the sight of any loving couple. I wish to see him, just see him would be enough, Just see him, in this surreal world where his words don’t match his lips, his lips wonderful lips that have left me longing and dreaming of his touch.
But he and his touch and his lips sleep and wake at hours I don’t keep. they reside so far from me, my heart and soul and yet he holds it all, holds my heart and soul and me like a little doll in his huge hand. I picture his hands, making sandwiches, making music, making love happen and I long for him. A world away, and yet I often find myself falling asleep to dream that he’s here with me or I with him, in a hot sticky sweat of humidity and love.