Whenever I daydream, it's usually about ridiculous things. Like the impact all the lovers in my life have ever had on me. The beauty, the ache when they leave me, when they break away like a splinter into pink flesh. How does something so small end up being such a noticeable part of you? It sinks in and peers up from underneath a thin layer of skin. At first it's not too bad, then it goes deeper, it has more of you. And when that slim metal tool pulls it out from your tough skin, it breaks through, breaks away, leaving you open and harmed, and hurting. Sometimes you bleed. For all, that hole remains. Skin eventually grows back, but it will always be there.

I live in a virtual world where you love me and I love you.
I love you in the physical world too.
You can’t see it, you don’t hear me.
But I can feel every time you’re near me.
It breaks my bones,
not sticks, not stones,
just you looking right through me,
like you never even knew me.

A faint sweetness at the first taste.
The tip of my tongue rakes,
across your jaw.
I kiss your skin,
I dive.
I take it all in.
You taste me too.
Do I taste as good as you?
I just had to tell you the truth…

You’re so delicious.

We don't need feet, we don't need roads.
I just need you to wrap your hands in the folds,
the folds of my own tired tentacles.
All ten of my sticky fingers attached to yours.
Grip me tightly while we walk into the sea,
The sand sinking lower as we float gracefully.
When we can’t touch the floor we’ll learn to take briny breaths,
we’ll die a thousand land-lived deaths.
Our human selves buried one thousand leagues under the sea,
we’ll swim with the fish both you and me.
Shiny scales and glowing gills and smooth shells,
dark ink, electric snakes, where tears can’t well.
You’ll never see me cry and you’ll never see the rain,
we’ll simply ride the tides and forget the pain.
I will love you and the sea,
I will love you endlessly.

I will love you. I will love your fingernails, your bones, your nerve endings. I will kiss your skin, I will touch my eyelashes to your eyelashes. I will hold you, I will whisper in your ear. I will tell you my fears. I will tell you my dreams. I will laugh with you, I will laugh at your jokes. I will do the things no one else knows how to do. I will cook food for us to share, I will go with you to places where we don't speak their language. I will nuzzle your neck and enjoy your scent. I will kiss your cheek in the special way I created for you. I will hold your hand. I will memorize the map of you. I will make love to you. I will even let your feet touch my feet. I will love you.

Who are you?

* * *

I will love you. I will love your fingernails, your bones, your nerve endings. I will kiss your skin, I will touch my eyelashes to your eyelashes. I will hold you, I will whisper in your ear. I will watch you sit up, stand up, walk. I will do the things no one else knows how to do. I will cook food for us to share. I will teach you language. I will nuzzle your neck and enjoy your scent. I will hold your hand. I will memorize the map of you. I will protect you. I will even touch your feet. I will watch you grow. I will love you.

Whoever you are; I can't wait to meet you.

I would give all material possessions to hear you utter my name breathlessly the way you once did. I would give my life for you despite your apparent forgetting of my existence. I would cross creaky bridges, swim through dark, uncharted waters, brave blistering colds, and the driest of deserts to get to you if you even thought you needed me, remembered me, missed me. I would take bullets and stab wounds and repeated hits to the face to have you back. I love you like I've never loved another human being. You tore away from me and I'm bleeding these words now because everything else is gone. You have left me, my innards are dry and I am aching, I am aching to be remembered, recalled, reopened. Reopen me and fill me up again please, I am begging you. Anything I ever did wrong, it can't compare to the amount I'm willing to do right to make it up to you. I know we fought, I know we screamed like we wanted the world to hear us, but I am screaming to you now, and I need you more than I need to breathe, so I am begging you, bring me back. Fill me up. Let me love you. Love me. Make me whole, be with me, kiss me, touch me, fuck me like you mean it. I mean it. I mean this. I need you. Bring us back, because this love is sucking me dry and I need you to keep filling me up.

He's beautiful. His skin is milky brown, his lips soft, shapely, just right for kissing. He's smooth from gradual wear, like buttery, aged leather. Except to me he is ageless, timeless even. He kisses me like time doesn't exist, like there aren't minutes in hours in days in weeks in years. He kisses me like he'll forget my lips, like he wants to memorize the fine lines, the carefully placed sighs, the shape. And so I kiss myself into a memory, burned into his brain so that he'll never forget the way I made him feel. The way his gaze singled me out into an oblivion of desire, of love. I kiss us naked, our bodies bare and flawless in each others' eyes. He kisses all my places so many times I don't dare to keep count. His lips dance on knees, soft inner thighs, shiny mounds of flushed flesh just beginning to seep desire and need. He bites me, he teases me. His tongue dances on the mounds, the inclines of hipbones, pointy delicious nipples and a warm neck. Then I take the lead, and my tongue and lips can now dance around flesh and warmth, around his perfect dick, around his soft, small ears and those soft lips. Now I want to feel him in me and so I ease into the moment, slipping onto a world of pleasure, moaning involuntarily when it reaches the hilt. Nothing could feel better than this in me, in this moment. I rock back and forth, up and down, enjoying the feel of his hands holding tightly to my waist. Then he's on top, then on the side, then behind me, until I've orgasmed hard enough to rock our little oblivion backwards and forwards and every which way.
--I don't want to leave you.
--Don't leave me.
--I have to go.
--Don't go.
--Just a little longer?
--Just a little.
And so he kisses me again, because I've begged him not to leave me and deep down he knows he can't. We only kiss. He kisses my lips and my neck, my tits and my bellybutton, my hipbones and my knobby knees. He whispers little goodbyes into my skin until they are absorbed, and then he slips out of the sheets, into clothes, and out of the door and I am left alone until the next time, until there's more time. Sometimes I feel we're having some torrid affair, even though I talk to his mother with him on Sundays and we look in antique shops and Tiffany's for wedding rings, and we're saving for a house. He still leaves me and that makes this less permanent than I'd like. I know it's impossible to be together constantly, but I wish he wouldn't fly off to cities that I forget the names to, just to talk to men who's names he'll forget as well. It's terrible waiting the two, three, and sometimes even five days until his return. I work, I edit, have meetings, and I write. I clean and tidy and organize. I fill the kitchen with good smells for when he walks in the door, because I know he doesn't like much restaurant food. Time after time, the routine of our life reeks of impermanence and I wish it didn't, because I know he loves his work, and he loves me, and we love each other. There is just this unbreakable attachment that I have to his spirit, and when he's far away I feel like my soul is stretched across state lines, and it's all I can do not to snap.