In the swirling, curling storm of desire, unuttered words hold fast
With reptile tongue, the lightning lashes towers built to last
Darkness creeps in like a thief and offers no relief
Why are you shaking like a leaf?
Come on, come talk to me
~”Come Talk To Me” by Peter Gabriel
In the beginning, there was the fire of rage, the burning of loss, the pain and the pressure. Later, there was unrelenting grey and the slivering cuts of icy loneliness and silence.
Now there is a new storm racing in the blood, new fire, and it has nothing to do with rage and everything to do with desire.
I responded to him like I’d responded to no one ever before. Together, our chemistry was incendiary. His touch trailed fire, his mouth burned. I made him shake and tremble. Together, we dove deep, drowning in the oceans of love and lust and intimacy.
After: drifting, unaware, we’d come back from so far, so slowly, eyes alight with wonderment and joy, turning to each other like plants to the sun, tangled in our growth.
And now that burning desire is back, as sharp and as electric as it ever was, limning each nerve, setting skin afire. It curls and twists through my stomach, knotting my fists and gritting my teeth.
There is no adequate outlet. There is only one cure, impossible to hold.
I could find company for the night, but I don’t want to. I don’t want something easy and disposable. I want back what I had, a molecular connection, two souls made one. I need the impossible, and I can’t have it.
Just when I thought I’d discovered the nastiest potholes of grief, the last of the twists and turns, I wake burning alive, breath caught in my throat.
What the hell am I supposed to do now?