Pull Away

It's 10:14 pm, Thursday night

My lover lies naked in my bed,

the smells of gratification after starvation still drying on his skin

Too long have I craved the weight of his arm caging my slumber

Too long have I cried for his heartbeat as my lullaby

Yet I am awake

I sit in my chemise, wearing his comfort-scented jacket

Crying over the poignancy of Jeff Stewart's "Weight of Things"

Instead of dreading the moment this vision must again leave me

For the first time, not appreciating the pre-tour days we share

Craving words more than inconsistent love

Realizing what is timeless and reliable

Though desire is relentless, I may be graduating from the single-track idea that sexual release is my only calming faction