I remember what it was like to have your hands dig deep into my skin.
You pushed and I pulled and the flesh between us seemed less than what a stranger knows.
You fit so perfectly.
Or was it that I was just open and willing?
I longed for fingers, loving or not.
I craved skin.
You pressed against me gently.
Your skin was soft and I held my face in the hair on your chest.
Now I am stuck in longing.
I wonder if there is something.
I look in the mirror trying to find anything.
I pinch at my stomach.
I grab at the soft useless folds.
You’re in the other room and I just want to feel beautiful.
I want you near me again.