Connect

I can't seem to understand why we aren't connecting. 

Your taste still lingers in my mouth.

I still smell you, but on strangers in close proximity

and I oddly enough follow the smell, hoping the stranger transforms into you. 

How can I be near?

How can I grasp you?

And hold you securely?

How can I get you to believe that you are everything? 

You are the dial of my mood and the swing in my hips.

The tingle in my gut and the wetness on my lips-you. are. my womanhood. 

It's when you look at me with greenish, brownish? eyes...

(I don't remember because the last time I saw you there was eminent darkness while you made a nest between my legs so the last thing I thought about was the pigment of your eye balls)

....Uhh I was saying that it was when you looked at me that I felt important and validated

And vulnerable and sad all wrapped into a ball that forever rests in the cave of my stomach. 

How can I convince you that when you are sleeping, I watch you? 

I trace the curvature of your brow bone with my fingertips

And I smile at the bulge in your boxers and I weep because although you are touching me,

you, are not touching me. 

That invisible part.

That part of people that fits in all containers.

That part that's cleaniest when your skin gets dirty. 

You are missing it.

It is gold.

It is god.

It is wonderment.

It is my essence. 

My nipples. My plump button behind. My locked tresses.

My ancient oriental eyes. My golden integument....will someday wither away.

It will someday die with the leaves in Central Park.

It will rust and and turn into the earth with known traces of you ...but that invisible part..well it won't. 

You will die with the leaves in the park and you will expire like the old lactaid
But you can be eternal with my invisible parts.

So connect. Attach.

Be my one. 

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