Lovestruck

I can feel you, even when you’re not here.

Every draw from a cigarette leads me to leaning on your shoulder in the night air, staring up at the moon from my balcony. When I inhale, I can smell your scent; you smell clean but masculine, just a hint of the vodka you just shot. As I feel myself lean into your shadow, I can feel the phantom of your body heat, the comfort in the strength of your shoulders, power brought on by athleticism, and manual labor. The tones of your voice are like honey to my ears while you remark on the shift of the seasons, once warm and comfortable when I came home to you just weeks before. Now there’s a chill in the air, but I welcome it if it means my body sinks into yours to stay warm. I’m breathless; whether it’s from you or the cigarettes we keep saying we’ll quit, I can’t be sure anymore. But every kiss steals the air from my lungs while it fills my soul, leaving me gasping for another.

I lay in my bed, remembering the perfect way we fit together in the throes of passion, calling your name out while I beg you to keep going, don’t stop until I’ve reached the point of no return. If I lose myself in the memory, I can still feel you pushing deep into the depths of my body. I stop myself from pleading your name into the empty air of my bedroom, knowing you won’t hear me no matter how loudly I cry out for you. In those moments, I feel the adventuring of my fingers along my body, dipping to familiar valleys that you once occupied. As my other hand grasps the pillow, I can feel your teeth grazing over the flesh of my neck, your nails digging into my skin while the pressure builds between us. For just a moment, the distance between reality and memory vanishes, and the familiar scratch of your facial hair feels real while your fingertips dig deep into the muscles. It’s futile, but I gasp for you, your name a lonely song leaving my lips that you can’t hear.

Even as I catch my breath, telling myself to let your memory go, the weight of the fantasy feels like your body on mine. I don’t want you to pull away. I don’t ever want you to leave this moment with me. I want to listen to the way you speak in tongues, pushing my lips apart with your own so that you can talk to me without words. Even when I know that we’ve reached completion for the moment, the way your tongue dances with mine tells me that we aren’t done for the night. Not by a long shot. All it takes is another moment where you press your body to mine, your hand resting on my heartbeat to know that I crave more of you. I know that we’ll rest for a moment, only to respond at a moment’s notice when your fingertips drift over my skin. The adrenaline kicks in, and with a giggle, I welcome your hungry touch, sinking into the sounds of us as you pull me to sit on top of you, a Queen on her throne of flesh and desire.

When I lift myself from the sheets, your ghost follows me through the halls, smart remarks teasing a grin onto my face. The ghost of your presence brings me peace, even as anxious thoughts race through my mind, wondering if I’ll ever be good enough. Your arms trap me in a moment, whispers affirming that I am good, I am beautiful, I am enough. With you, I am not just powerful but the embodiment of the strength I want for those I love. You raise me up, Persephone peering through the darkness, blooming into a fierce Queen. You guide me over the river of souls that haunts me, and finally, I belong.