Queen Ann's Lace

Created: 07/26/2009 4:30am

Tonight I needed you. I needed the softness of your skin, and my face pressed against it. I needed the darkness of the night to gather silent, making the world seem empty, forcing all my attention to the curve of your hips, and the sheets that follow their form. Your female essentia, compressed and distilled by lunar gravity, absorbed me; channeling my river of thought, from its restless, winding indirection, back to your simple boundaries of calm currents and elegant symmetry.

Am I just a grievous machine, pushed when pushed and pulled when pulled? Am I laced with primal procedure from birth, only mimicking a synthetic archetype; an invented apparition of soul divine? Is my love an automated force of inhuman nature, non-deserving of recognition, appeasement, indulgence of an organic lust? Tonight, your dismissal was more wounding than commonplace, leaving me wandering with desire for someone, anyone, who would glide through the night to my window, simply to rest my turbulent head near her womb.

I was brushed aside; and as the sleepless evening sustains, my sadness cares nothing of why.

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