Separation Anxiety – Tasty Tuesday
I’m having separation anxiety. I know you’re no good for me but I want you like fried chicken on a Sunday – a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips in the worst possible way. Your being consumes my thoughts. I want to breathe your air. I want to BE your air, but for you its nothing of the life. Feeling like Julia Roberts at my best friend’s wedding, I wish those nights of passion could last forever but I’m not the “her” to your “him”. I knew this going in but my candelabra of hope reigned strong. So tedious burning them all out. A ceiling fan might do.
Scents of your cosmic aura stain my chi. Crosses made of cascarilla I place atop my forehead just to sleep. Prayers at night wishing you away. This separation anxiety has me touching myself, hoping it’d feel the same. Circling my breasts. Wetting my fingertips, preparing for my center. I spread my legs, eyes closed with images of you in my mind. Exploring my middle, I reach…nothing but dry spells await me. It’s not the same. The anxiety converts to stress. My image of you in the light is different from the dark. I want them both, but we all can’t have what we desire…
I turned you off last night, but remnants of you will always remain. The apprehension of it all has me wondering if it’s worth it, or it I’m just a fool who’s already lost the battle….
To be continued.
VaughnySweet
