Sanity

I try not to sleep, for sleep brings dreams, and desire, and rain, and you.

In the twilight, rain comes down in a deluge of fragments. The empty road stretches out ahead. Through the rain I can see the thick forest on both sides. There are no lights, no signs of habitation, not even in the distance. I stand still for a while on the side of the road, the wide brim of my hat keeps the rain away from my face but the rest of me is completely drenched. I don't know where I am. I don't know where to go.

These years of rain, or is it these years of dreams of rain, have washed away all the reality in me.

When I feel your hand in mine, I turn towards you and in silence we hold hands in the rain at the side of the road. In time I pull you into my arms for an embrace, you resist briefly but then yield and burying your face into my chest, you whisper "Save me".

All my dreams

Whatever it is that you want to make me into, I have already become.

Sleep is but a whisper that I cannot hear, and so I sit on the edge of our bed staring out at the distant white foam of the waves caressing our beach over and over. In the low tide, the dark expanse of sand outside our window extends far into the deep night. In the dim light from a lone naked bulb under the overhang atop the entry door of our cottage, the silvery drizzle of rain fills the window with a ghostly curtain fall.

But for the sound of the rain, the world outside could be a photograph. One that I cannot forget. One that never leaves your dreams.

I can hear your gentle breathing on the bed behind me, and if I close my eyes I can imagine your familiar curves rising and falling with every breath.

In time, the night deepens and the bed draws me again to its embrace. As I turn to lay beside you, you ask, "How long are you going to take all my dreams?"

Wish you were

The fine spray of mist-like rain on my face brought in by the wind through the open window woke me up. I must have dozed off while reading, feet up on my desk and the chair pushed back at an incline. I lay still, holding onto the book on my chest, and watched the curtains billowing into unreal shapes as I tried to pull myself out of the daze that unexpected waking from deep slumber brings.

Outside, the steadfast sea unvaried in its cadence sang its lonesome song.

When I finally turned back to open the book, the bookmark was a photograph of you. I looked at your photo for a while before remembering that I had written a note for you on its back. Turning it over...

My Love,

    There has been no other want, since I have wanted you.  You are my desire. All of it. *Smiling.* I loved the picture. You are so, so gorgeous, babe. I love the pose, the demure turning of your face, the lowered eyes, the play of light and shadows on your neck and cleavage, your hair, the legs, the bottom of the shirt hiding the part where your legs meet. And the curve of your breasts, the nipple peeking... god, it literally made me hard at work. A beautiful, alluring picture, my love.
   
Michael

 I wish you were.