Lust

The Longing is a place.  A distance.  A horizon.

The Longing is not the light at the end of the tunnel, it's the darkness that makes the light possible.

The Longing is a double breath.

A skipped beat.

A missed moment, realized a moment too late.

The Longing is knowing things could have worked, if only one decision had been made differently.

The Longing is a memory of your hand on her leg.  You're looking her in the eyes, and she is returning the gaze.  You open your mouth to say the exact right thing, and feeling the words stop before they fall out.

The Longing is the fantasy of what would have happened if you would have just said the words.

Those words.

Those goddamn words.

Whatever they might have been.

The Longing is knowing, that you'll never know.

The Longing is the smell of your perfume...on another person.

The Longing is knowing that the picture is a lie.

The Longing is falling asleep with you in every part of me.  And waking up alone.

The Longing is that desperate desire of feeling anything comparable with anyone else...and not.

You made me better.

You made me great.

You filled me up.

You made me empty.

The Longing is sitting silently in the noisy room.  Watching you...watch everyone else.

The Longing is that one moment.  That one second.  That single instant,

when we were alone

and

honest.