For Getting You
I was in love once, but I’ve been forgetting why I so desperately needed touch.
How standing there, being so close, created a warmth and secure comfort, that could not end.
The need to hear a voice, familiar, seductive, soothing, longing, etching out syllables that felt like home.
I’ve forgotten why, why there ever even was an us.
The firmness of a hand, pulling my whole being closer. Taking me into a single breath that dreams other worldly.
I cannot remember why the slightest brush of skin brought so much reassurance, a glance away singe so deep a rejection.
I was all for you once. Mind singularly focused on every curved, dented, angle, at all times, every time my thoughts were left to choose, it was always you over the factual, spiritual, necessary sustenance.
You made me feel loved.
And yet, a new desperation has settled on my waist, heavy upon my neck, bending me forward in silence as I recollect the sadness and hysteria that ripped me to tiny tiny threads.
I cannot remember why the thought of you, the sight of you, the feel, the sound, the smell of you, the certainty of life, through warmth, movement and glow of you, was once all I knew I needed.