Member-only story
Missing Out on Me
A poem of longing
We made love last night.
“I wish I could help you understand how much this helps me.”, I said afterward.
Because it does.
I’m Grounded, Connected, Satisfied, even if for just a few moments.
I can sleep. My body can rest.
It opens up the possibility of waking tomorrow, headache-free and feeling at ease.
A rarity, to be sure.
Your mouth, your hands, and your skin…all that wonderful skin.
The sensuousness of it all.
It is enough.
“You have been starved too long”, you say.
“He was a fool to have missed out on how wonderful you are”, you say.
And suddenly, instead of feeling calm, my body tightens.
All of the years of disconnection I had with him, with myself return to my mind.
I feel all of the wishing, the aching for more…for what my body was intended for.
And never got. I missed myself.
All of the pleasure, all of the love I was meant for.
I missed out.
Until now.
