Desirer

She put her fingers between her thighs and felt the damp of desire. She was thinking about the curves on your chest—those succulent breasts. She was thinking about your timid cunt. She was thinking about the wholeness of you. You were like some free-form liquid flowing along the ducts inside her head. You were everywhere.

                                                  

She kissed the wind, thinking that your lips were suspended somewhere between the dusts and the darkness that enveloped her somber room. The wind, too, might carry those kisses to where you were lying right at that moment. She held the pillows close to her body, as if those pillows were your body.

You were once a dream. But days ago you came into view… and days after you were, yet again, a part of those illusions that visit her emptiness.