Fantasy Created

Fantasy created

A look. Nothing more.
Yet that one act has opened a gorge of feelings inside.

I’ve tried to push them deeper and deeper – not allowing them to surface.
But they’re here with me at night, as I watch the ceiling close in on me.

Your touch, it was simple and needed.
So hard to explain why at that one moment I needed it more than logic or reason.

Your hand in mine and I can no longer remember the name of the song.
The beat, our body’s touching- meeting as we move to the unknown music.

I hear something else inside.
I feel my skin start to warm.

You held me close, but not tight.
Your hand, slowly outlining the curve of my arm.

A shiver, and I felt my pulse quicken.
The breathing – faster, excited, yet scared.

What does it all mean?
How do I sort it out in my mind?


In the dark, I close my eyes and imagine us moving faster and farther from reality.
I close my eyes and I feel you next to me.
Your voice, whispering in my ear – quiet, yet full of promise.
Your fingers brush a strand of hair away from my eyes.

They’re open. Wanting to remember every detail.
Your eyes lock with mine, urging me to see, feel and live in the moment.

I can feel you next to me, your touch on my collarbone.
I’m melting with desire.
It’s been simmering so long, waiting for someone to stir the emotions deep inside.

You continue exploring.
I’m powerless in your arms.
Light, yet probing.
The touch leaves me aching for more.

I see my hand reach out to you.
Touching, feeling your heart beat beneath them.
My fingers betray their loyalty.
The tips red like the sin in my heart.

Your head bends to mine.
I feel my lips soften at the thought of meeting yours.
Our mouths move within a primal dance.
Bolder – tongues, lips all hot and wet.
I have your taste inside.

Skin touching skin.
Your mouth burning a brand on me.
An ache deep inside moves closer to being filled.

Hips move to meet yours as the darkness closes in.
Not thinking about tomorrow, not wondering about today.
My legs tighten around you, your hair entwined in my hands.

An evening of eternity.
The night air cool on my skin.
The hum of the ceiling fan keeping steady rhythm for the music of the night.

My eyes open, as I lie there alone.
A creation of fantasy with ties to reality.
A memory, a need, a fulfillment to the longing.
Where does perception become reality and
where does that thin line get crossed?