Warped Desires

I watch him leave, note his back
Broad shoulders, slim hipped, long legged.
My nails still feel the hard muscle
Of his buttocks as they sink and slide,
Searching for lust-lasting grip
In his flesh.

The door has closed.  Softly.
Finally.
There is no drama, just rumpled sheets
And my need.

I hold myself tight, squeeze breasts
Tight against my rib cage
Until I moan with longing and grief.
He has gone and I am alone again,
Knowing this time there is no returning
Knowing this time there is emptiness.

I look around and ask myself again,
“Do I wish for too much?
Do I demand too much?”
I know the answers as I know
I make demands on my knees,
Tears in my eyes
Offering him my body, my pain, my being.

Unknowing I hold to my lips
The knotted cords of my desire
And taste my own blood that seeps slow
Into those virgin ropes.

The door is closed forever and I lie
Dark in the oubliette of my own fires,
Knowing what I have driven away,
Knowing what I have lost.
But I can not help myself, nor call him back.
It is over, and all that is left
Are the cords and warped desire.