still alone

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I sit I think.
I sit I fantasize.
I can remember the sensations
But not the weightless feeling of spiritual bliss.
I can think back and remember
the shared passion,
but not how I felt when living it.
So much of the joy is now gone.
colors without shades,
silhouettes without the shadow.
so I sit in bed,
in the morning,
thinking of you and how hungry you made me.
My eyes start to fall
as i visit the land between wake and slumber
the physical starts to take over.
With pictures of you in my mind my hand reaches down
to grasp what needs and longs to be reached.
Slowly rhythmically my hand starts its self fulfilling ritual.
I feel the muscles tightening,
as my whole self starts to join the dance.
My muscles pushing my torso forward
as it tries to reach your imaginary presence.
Faster and more desperate
as my passions attempt to plunge into you in your absence.
I sweat, tremble, shake, spasm and cry out your name
as the creamy pearl eruption overflows down my clenched fist,
down the shaft, over my testicles
and onto the now drenched sheets.
And then I realize
I am
still alone.....

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