Spoon me

I was thinking about what I wrote in my last post, about me knowing I ought to leave and not leaving. There's something crazymaking about woulda/coulda/shoulda and I don't think it's healthy for me to dwell there. I had an insight, I overrode it. I am where I am. It's best if I just step forward from here.

I'm craving touch. I want to be held, spooned, encased in tenderness and warmth. I want the comfort of someone's breath next to me, inhaling his scent, the reassuring rise and fall of another body. Waking up in the night entwined. I'm slowly accepting this empty bed, but I'm still a bit shocked.

I miss having something/someone immediate to love. I guess this is where people get dogs.

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