The Wait

The empty spot upon my rumpled bed

matches the aching place within my heart.

my pillow bears the imprint of your head;

I hate this dreadful time that we’re apart.

I’m sitting here alone and incomplete

while dreaming of your fingers in my hair;

the taste of your lips on mine remains sweet.

your scent still lingers on the morning air.

My fingers trace the outlines of your touch;

inside my core a fiery heat begins.

Pulse racing, I can feel my face go flush,

remembering your breath upon my skin.

This unquenched passion now will slowly burn,

until we reach the hour of your return.

I wait upon the hour of your return,

so while you’re gone, I let my mind run free.

the tender parts of me I’ll help you learn,

and secret things I’ll let you do to me.

Imagine us, entwined within these sheets;

a smile upon my lips begins to show.

Within my breast, my heart rapidly beats

and moisture, deep inside me, starts to grow.

I settle in this nest of satin thin,

and let my fingers travel where they will.

They quickly find a spot of hungry skin

and waves of intense pleasure start to spill

across my soul -- my passion now has fed

the empty spot upon my rumpled bed.