day dreaming into the night
my head hits the pillow and love pours out
shadows become rose-colored
cupid hides behind every corner
aiming his arrow straight into my heart.
The thrill of early infatuation rushes through my veins and
suddenly time is meaningless unless it’s spent
memorizing the map of his skin.
I float Monday through Friday just so I can get to
fantasy-fueled Saturday nights and
Sunday mornings drenched in desire.
It seems that the excitement of new romance
is my favorite drug after all-
more intoxicating than booze,
more exciting than finding the perfect pair of shoes…
My mind stores away the stolen glances and trailing fingertips,
the thirsty lips caressing my skin,
just to play it back to me at its will.
I’m an addict now, always craving more-
more breathless nights, more lazy mornings in bed intertwined,
more exploration of what my body craves
without shame.
Flashbacks find me wherever I am
and turn me useless
under the spell
of his hands.
A.P. Bastian 