Self-Inflicted Fancies

Each night of solace,I close my eyes;and imagine that spaceis the man in my mind.Trying to picturethe plot of my dream,I visualize the scenesas I embrace the wind. Pretending that Iam wrapped in his arms,I succumb to the thrillof artificial warmth.For a second, I thoughtthe murmur of the breezeis actually his voicerequesting for a kiss. Sporadic peckshave waltzed their way:goosebumps cuddledmy tender nape.A hint of moisturehas brushed my neckas my bosom revealstears of sweat.My fingers soaredeach curve and cave;a silent moanescapes from my lips. Alas, a thrust from withinhas warped me backin my chamber: alone.Once againloneliness has reigned;his silhouette has vanishedtogether with the wind.