The silence that enfolds around,
soft embrace of

emptiness

I feel the space you filled
now void of your essence
encompassing in loneliness
as love has left with you...

I'm here, myself, and fantasy
lacking in it's touch
missing all the pleasure
{{{still reeling in the rush}}}

I caress the soft of me
touch the heat
of want
as you would do
a sensuous slide of hand across skin
and the missing again
is a game
I can only play
after the light of day
in darkened room
fantasies on loom
I weave a touch in thought
to soothe
to sate
for naught
for still I come up wanting
your hand upon my flesh.

WhiteRose