She wanted his touch. From long strong finger tips across the nape of her neck. She wished for his smell. On a breath, slipping from between his firm full lips. As he whispers her name. The melody accompanying his touch.

She spent her hours of many days. Searching the faces of strangers. Trying uncomfortably to catch his eyes. Searching for the light of acknowledgment.

It made her heart ache.

It filled the aloneness into lonliness. Each hour of each day that she waited. She felt things slipping away from her. Little bits of her self esteem. Imperceptible at first like a single flake of dead skin shredding.

Some other time. A whole limb of self confidence could clatter from her.

Some other time, an internal organ of self love squeezed into a slow and painful death.

She never sat and waited for these moments. Hadn't learnt to give up hope. She stayed alive and vibrant. Sought out new experiences . New people. Kept talking and sharing.

Talking and sharing

Talking and sharing to the back of his head as he disappeared into the distance of her imagination.

Leaving her full up with the last imagined stroke of his flesh. Her flesh.

Her lips would pout involuntarily to catch a trace of his kiss.

Her nipples jump into a welcome.

Her knees weaken and part.

Her heart.

Closing her eyes against the words spelling out her lonliness. A breaker against the swelling. She shook her head, wanting to explode the images she could feel herself creating.

She tried to encourage the laughter to bubble up. To spill like a soft and fluffy armour about her again.

Her smile was legendary. The last defence. As her tears came sweeping up her throat. She smiled and the power of her smile muscles caught the roar of sadness.

Sometimes she knew he felt it. Knew the moment when, appalled by her pain, he turned away from her. He was forever willing her to shut it back down. She was forever acquiescing.

She would wait. She would believe. He would stop hiding from her in the soft tone of a young mans greeting. Disguised amongst the many. He would step forward. He would step up.

He would take her by surprise. Lean his chin into the well between her shoulder and her neck. Let his eyelashes caress her. Kiss her. Turn her into him. Wordless and knowing. Slip his hands beneath her layers.

Her spirit and body would stand naked before him.

Her eyes would shine and different tears run down her face. Down her neck and between her breasts. Over the rich round swelling of her belly. Dip in and out and in and out of her belly button, running a rythmn toward the mound of her womanhood.

And here, where he, with joy, drank deeply of her juices, flicked the salt tears, blending his own sweet cocktail. Here, where she trembled, her tears would meet his.