Three AM

3 AM

Your face in it's frame watches me sleep.

My nightmare subsides as my eyes blink open to see the moonlight reflect through the glass of water, distorting your face.

I pick up the glass and drink. Picking up your image, I lie down studying you, remembering you.

3 AM.

I talked to you tonight; last night..I talk to you most nights.
Each time I memorize your voice.
I stroke my fingertips down your glass covered face, tenderly, lovingly. Your half smile mysterious, the depth of your eyes astounds me.

I close my eyes and consider the image I find behind my lids. A tall, dark, sensuous man hovering above me, dipping his head to my breast, tonguing my nipple into his mouth, teasing me with hot breath...

I shiver as I press the frame against me, fold my arms across it's coldness, pressing your face against my nakedness.

I smile, thinking of your laugh, your awe of life.

I replace the picture and hesitate, my fingertip tracing the line of your cheekbone and stopping at your lips.

I stand and move to the window.

The moon is huge, hung in a sky littered with a million stars. Night sounds creep into my reverie and I watch a small cloud creep across the moon, splitting the orb in two equal pieces as it passes.

I turn and touch my fingertip to my lips and touch the kiss to your face. A wave of emotion grips my heart, holding it tightly before it releases me and fades to a an ache I'll never defeat.

I hug myself; with one last look toward the moon, I lie down in my bed, close my eyes, and drift away on a sea, not of lonliness, but of Acceptance and Hope, the surface stirred peacefully by waves of