Hunger

She would like to unwrap him
from her gently, like a bandage
from a wound. Anything but
this game of contact
and lack. God knows why
she comes back to him
again and again, or dreams
of his kiss in the hollow
of her neck and the want,
how they might turn to each other
and give in, the shock so deep
she wakes up wet and remorseful.

--Deborah Artman


I cut him off. I tried to keep myself away from him, but he keeps coming back. I swore to myself that I wouldn't call him, wouldn't e-mail him, wouldn't IM him. I even screamed bloody murder when I drove through his town on Monday night. Then on Wednesday, he IM'ed me and my resolve faltered. I told him that I wanted to be friends and he agreed, but I couldn't help but feel that this was but a step towards the inevitable.

I don't know why I want him.

I don't know why I can't stay away from him.

I don't know why I need him in my life.

At night, I lie in bed and curled against my back, I feel him. His head indents the pillow above mine. His knees brush against the back of my legs. His arms wrap around my waist, fingers rubbing slowly against my stomach. As I fall asleep, I can't help but thinking that this is where I need to be. With him.