What I Need is more than passion. I could find that anywhere. Loneliness lives in dingy dance halls, and on crowded city sidewalks. It’s afterward; breathing slows to familiar, and we reach again. You stroke my hair gently. I trace a slow curve, with fingertip barely touching, across the arch of your eyebrow, down your cheek, between your parted lips. I pull my face forward, brush my mouth to yours, and we settle. Quiet together. Feeling our skin blend and pool like warm honey; knowing we belong soft into the night; this is what I need. Shirley Alexander © 2007Return to: Behind Closed Doors
