Ghost of Your Hands
I can feel the ghost of your hands haunting my skin and it makes me tremble, more than ever, with desire for the warmth of your sweet, soft embrace. Faint whispers of gentle passion scream loudly in this vacant silence, my fingers caressing blindness, tracing outlines that aren’t there. My beating, pleading heart aches with every unshared breath, each untouched kiss and I cry out for you. Your delicate presence completes me and saves me from destruction. Why can’t you be here this very moment to help save me from this darkness? I’m drowning in a sea of sorrow in this lonely abandon and I regret the consequence. Escape is my prison and because of this I am not proud. I wish upon stars that have fallen behind the horizon that I may overcome such a fictional ecstasy. Choice is my dilemma, I am my own weakness, but you are the light that can guide me towards the harbor despite the savage storm. But I am alone now in this enigma that overburdens me because of the distance placed between us. The sandy shore seems unobtainable from where I’m sailing but a mustard seed of faith have I, that the wind will carry me into your arms eventually. Time has a way of teaching patience to those who truly love and you, my love, are definitely worth waiting for. But how much longer will you wait for me?
