Melancholy
Posted by Layla Winterborne on Saturday, 6 February, 2010 @ 1:45 pm
There is a melancholy…a shimmer which hangs upon the thick, humid air, begging to be touched.
An electric pulse entering through outstretched fingertips…beneath fingernails…soul wrenching vibrations which leave you gasping for breath, eyes watering…and everything seems so dark…so dark.
It’s always this time of year…with impending spring and the way the sunlight filters through the slants of the blinds. The melancholy embraces me in a way that my lovers have yet to replicate. Enveloped, surrounded by a deep pulse which reverberates deep echos that pound…in and out…in and out. And god! If only I could be loved so deeply…to feel the pounding in the hollow of my throat…in my abdomen…in the soles of my feet…the palm of my hands…my heart…my soul…
To feel IT in every fiber of my being.
The melancholy does not embrace me now as it did then…and I find myself grasping, crying out…Demanding that it touch me. Love me. And yet he still flits…flirting at the edges, touching me in ways that raise the flesh and leave me yearning…begging…to feel. An inconsistent lover…a “booty call”…kissing me lightly with quick flicks of the tongue…touching mine…lightly grazing my teeth, my cheek…but never lingering.
As much as I surrender…he will not take me.
February 6th, 2010 at 2:10 pm
Beautiful. Your words are always haunting, and eloquent.
February 7th, 2010 at 11:19 pm
It’s nice to read writers, I’m not one but my favorite reads are writers or poets of some kind.