Someone's Been Sleeping in My Bed

Sitting at home enjoying the quiet, sporadically interrupted by the clicking of cats’ claws on the hardwood floor as they try to gain purchase, and thinking of nothing more than the soft cashmere blanket on my bare legs and the way the ceramic mug transfers the heat of my tea to my hands.  I like this quiet, uncomplicated life.  I like this life free of the burden of loving or expecting.  I feel boundless, weightless, energetic and at ease for the first time in so long.  These few hours, I cling to, because I know that just outside the door or just one phone call away there is something or someone waiting to shatter my sanctuary.  That was me a few days ago, less than a week ago, until sexuality, sensuality muffled sensibility. 

My body craves what my body always craves but my mind, my heart, my soul want and need the uncomplicated just for right now, for these few months, for this one year.  So, when beauty calls, then knocks on my door and then steps over the threshold into my space I think, I can have this, I can have him - uncomplicated.  He'll stay for the day, he'll stay for two, maybe three and then he'll fly back across the Atlantic to his wood and water leaving my sanctuary intact and my body spent with promises to see him soon.  So, why is he still here, starring at me with a smile on his lips and deep open eyes? 

I smile back but don't say a word - conversation brings closeness, we're already too close.  I like the sex, I love the sex and a year ago, 18 months ago, two years ago, in the spaces between he and he I would have let him hold my hand while we walked down the street glancing at one another as we smiled, loving the idea of loving him but not right now.  Yet, nothing I've just written, nothing I've just typed will keep me from climbing up the stairs, climbing into bed and climbing on him. 

I'm greedy.  I'm stupid.  I'm going . . .