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Sigh I feel your breath on my fingers: A trace reminder that you sleep near me, And I keep my hand still To know that finally it is not fantasy. A quiet smile Steals the place of that Ages-long craving to touch you Because now I may. Private confidence Affords dreams of uncounted first kisses, And I wonder if I want to trade a brush of your lips For that dizzying, treasured privilege. As bewildered as you, This passion, For which my body is redundant, Is new, And I like it. 8:53 pm, 11/15/98 Copyright 1998 by Sharon J. Cichelli |
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Therapy I guess it's true What they say: Sometimes you just need To get laid. I laugh when I think Of you And the rumors my roommate will savor And how beautiful I was in your arms. I don't even think Of him, Except in defiance. He went and found my replacement, And I found The music To dance by myself. Late September, 1998 Copyright 1998 by Sharon J. Cichelli |
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Symbiosis Funny, The power a stranger has. All you did was Try to score, Yet I feel vibrant, Exciting, sexy. Pardon me while I Use you To stroke my ego, Since you did. 2:35 pm, 12/22/97 Copyright 1997 by Sharon J. Cichelli |
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Sought Softness I miss someone To put his hands in my hair, That's how intimate: Fingers enmeshed, Palms against my face To aim for a kiss. Hands Because only lips is not enough Connection. A vulnerable spot that yields Perfect trust. I still hold the image, As one might cherish my face, And there is always sunlight there. Sunday tea, sex, laughter, and philosophy Are trivial after losing That. 5:04 pm, 7/9/98 Copyright 1998 by Sharon J. Cichelli |
