if only

When I got home, you were waiting.

I opened the door and you were there, your sexy smile warming up the room like sunshine in a land long bereft of summer. You were bare-chested, clad only in a pair of comfy cotton slacks, and you came up to me and effortlessly lifted me off my feet.

We spun round like two giddy little kids, and I laughed in delight. When we stopped, you held me in your arms for the longest moment. I felt the sinewy muscles of your bare arms, the comforting strength of your chest, and was safe.

Safe…warm…and loved.

Then you kissed me. Sweet, long, and lingering. I kissed you back with all the love, the hope, the longing deep within me. Everything I’d kept bottled up inside, I poured into that kiss, and I knew there was no turning back.

More kisses. Each one longer and deeper than the first. Each kiss more urgent and demanding by the second. Yes, there certainly was no turning back from this now. There was nothing else I could do but surrender to this moment, to this night, to you.

In haste we shed our clothes like they were flaming brands that burned our skin. I could not take my hands off you, and you touched me like I was the most precious thing Nature had ever borne. No longer capable of coherent thought, we simply let our feet take us to my bed, and together we fell onto its lovely softness.

We made beautiful love.

And afterwards, when it was all over and I was spent beyond belief, I lay back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling.

And wept.

I wept for the past, for the present, and for tomorrow. What has become of me? What will become of me?

Will I have you? Will I find you? Or will you remain what you are, a ghost inside my head?

This night would have been perfect – if only you were REAL.