Waiting on Myself
Shared by The Lost-and-Found Lover.
I have dated.
I have dated her.
I have made her heartbeat my clock, each moment an individual piece of time captured by the pace of her breath.
When I am cocooned in her arms, swaddled by her essence, time trickles through our fingers.
I have slept in unwashed sheets, relishing the scent she’s left lingering.
When I touch the softness of her thighs, wander through her legs, time is fleeting but leaves us full.
I have fed her bits of my past, hoping she would swallow them with easy tenderness.
They only made her gag.
I have begged her to patch the cracks that have settled on my heart.
“A hammer,” she said, “a hammer will do right by you.”
I have been shattered,
crumpled and burned.
I have been lost but I am still here,
Still waiting to be found.
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