Come & Go

"I crave you."

A 10:00 P.M. message lighting up

the darkness in my room.

Every fiber of my body compelling

me not to respond, yet

the mind, rather the heart,

asking me not to. Not tonight.

I respond anyway.

"Tell me exactly what it is you

crave?"

One hour later, he's come,

and then he is gone. Off

to bed to start another day

satisfied, while I still lay here

in bed, missing the presence he

never allowed me. Yearning

to touch, to feel, to kiss every inch

of him.

He spent an hour getting off while I

spent an hour trying to get him

off his ass and into my bed. Not

the metaphorical white screen lit

with blue and grey thoughts.

When I do get him over, he never

stays long. Long enough to come

and go.

When did I become a rest stop, a quick

fix, yours without you becoming mine?

Why come and go when

I could give what is asked of me

every day, every night and however long

we get?

Night five, a 10:00 P.M. text.

"I crave you."

I don't want to respond, but I

do.

Another hour, another night of

coming and going.