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Thunder-Struck:
I wish I was with you now.
Your skin, your hands, arms, your touch.
My face against your cheek as you smile, ear to ear.
The weight of your body on top of mine.
My eyes are closed, tight.
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THUNDER RUMBLES
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My fingers on your neck, your earlobe in my mouth.
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THUNDER ROLLS
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"That's beautiful," you say.
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THUNDER ROARS
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I try to get up. "No," you say. "Stay right here."
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THUNDER RUMBLES
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Your skin, your hands, arms, your touch.
You touch me. You squeeze me. You tickle me.
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THUNDER ROLLS
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"That's beautiful," you say.
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THUNDER ROARS
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Fantasy Number two hundred forty-seven
I am alone with you in the dark corner of a crowded room.
Everywhere else, young, sweaty bodies migrate between the various ports of booze.
The bodies are so loud you’d think they were on fire, but in this corner, we are the only souls.
It's hot, the smoke is thick, but that’s not why I can hardly breathe.
I am so excited, my earlobes are tingling.
I am in such a state of delirium, I almost imagine that you want me.
Did I ever notice before that your eyelashes are so seductively long?
Oh! There! It happened again... my heart, it did something funny.
I want to ask you to dance with me, just so I can feel your body touching mine.
But then, I am pinned to the wall. I don’t have to ask...
I am held up to the wall by your body.
Everywhere your skin touches my skin, I am on fire.
Goose-Flesh where your breath has touched me.
Your arms envelop me and I truly believe that I will succumb to rapture.
Your head is resting on my shoulder, your breath is hot on my neck.
Tingles shooting down my spine.
You begin to speak and I can no longer breathe.
"You are so beautiful."
I try my best to swallow and I fail miserably.
"When I put my arms around you, my hands always seem to find the perfect resting places.
You feel so good."
I subsequently melt into an oozy puddle on the sticky floor.
Why are you being so nice to me?
Ah.... that's right. I nearly forgot.
This is MY fantasy...... after all.
unrequited inamorata:
There was once a man I loved very much.
I could see nothing but beauty when I looked at him.
Beauty in his art, beauty in his words, beauty in his heart, beauty in the things he taught me.
When he touched me
I felt like warm sunshine and when we kissed, I could fly.
There was endless green grass beneath my feet and limitless
blue waters to swim through.
My skin hummed when he was near.
He was the most beautiful thing I ever did see.
He
loved that I loved him so much, but he did not love me.
When finally he told me he was in love -with another- I told him
I loved him too much to not be his friend.
He asked me, Why have you always wanted me so much?
I replied, When I find
something beautiful, I hold on to it until I almost die.
I always did tell him that he was beautiful.
He never believed
me.
Not until that moment.
He was moved to tears that I thought that he was so beautiful.
Now I find that when
I am attracted to a potential suitor... he is always the same beautiful as this old lover:
He has much art to be released
from his heart and shared with the world;
He is an old soul, who has much to teach the world;
He is gentle with the
Earth and appreciates her gifts, big and small, new and old;
His friends are his world, he'd give his life for them;
His
humor is sharp, his smile is wide;
And when he looks at me, I know, I am NOT fooling him. He sees past the smoke and mirrors
I've placed with such care. He sees me. He really sees me.
It is without effort that he understands exactly what I am
thinking and why I am thinking it and I can not hide. I can not lie.
I am standing naked in front of him and there is nothing
I can do to conceal myself, not that I want to. I am not scared.
My skin is humming.
I see endless green grass and
limitless blue waters.
I feel like warm sunshine and I can fly.
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