I woke and couldn't sleep. And for a moment I worry you didn't say goodnight, that you were alright.
Lights start to flicker and I need water. Sliding my curtains to check, to see and feel safe. It's an anxiety need. I want to walk outside my front door to the world outside, outside to check to see its alright.
Instead I thought better of it. More of what I wanted than needed. Opening my backdoor, the breeze immediately caught my nearly naked shape and edges of my skin. Almost like a backdraft and I felt something other than warm.
I love lightning. And thunderstorms.
For a few minutes before it began I step out and stand in the early rain, sprinkling my bare shoulders. Knowing where I was with nothing more than little on I took a deep breath in, more of what I want, more of what I need. Deep breath. Involuntarily. That almost-smell not-there-yet and open cleansing thought. Feels like a yoga pose, my yoga pose. Breathe in the before the rain.
Lying on my bed, sheets are cooler now and heavy drops of rain hit the concrete floor outside my door. Rushing rain on rain. Like sex on your bed. The last time we had sex you fit just fine, by the way, you fit me real fine. I don't why. And I want it again.
Slowing down, now, calm is here. Instead I need. And I don't know how to do this. Because I haven't had to do this in someone's so very long time.
Have dinner with me and tell me how are you, where you've been and who you are—I want to hear your thoughts and words, again, because I'm going to miss you when you're gone. I will cook you food to fill you for a moment while you stay.
Unless I'm with you I don't know truly how you are, but like me, you're probably fine and your needs go unmet; your wants haven't stopped you yet. You can love me if you want and if we're both not afraid. Can we decide later and in the meantime, heal.
I want to feel your touch. I don't know if I need it anymore, but I know I love it when you do. Soft gentle touch you brought to me. I am not sure if you're going to stay or if you will go. I don't like to be told what do—and I have an overwhelming guess—neither do you.
But—Bath me in caress like you do. Bath in me care and I will do you the same until we both need to leave. I promised I wouldn't hurt you, I promise I will protect your heart.
I love you and no one knows.