Need and/or Want

I look back at an entry I wrote three years ago.

I was all soft pinks and lilac blooms. Cotton and hay and warm milk on a stove.

Am I still these gentle things?

Perhaps.

Today, sitting on the worlds most uncomfortable stool, staring at a flash light screen in a half lit kitchen, I think I probably still want as strongly as I did then. If not more so now.

Less frills, less words. But head still back, neck long, wanting.

I close my eyes and feel all silence stroke the insides of my wrists. My lips are no longer bitten. I try and keep my nails shorter. Talk less to myself.

Love, I still dream about it. Daily doses.
The kind that stretches out in the night, and leans into me, without holding on, or letting go.

An orgasm, whilst listening to Beethoven.

Two coffee cups, one empty, the other half full.

I take an imaginary hand, and run it through my hair, unbutton an imaginary button, and kiss a swollen lip


then convince myself that air and light, water and music
are all I really need.

But need and want are two very different things...