Wishful Thinking

I wished it was you,
your accelerated breath
to agitate the hairs on my skin
crawling up my leg
like a hungry lioness
on the prowl
to allay her thirst
for warm body fluid,
but not the wind from the window.

I wished it was you,
your body‘s heat
to ignite the fire in my core
spreading up and down, left to right
like summer‘s sunshine
reddening my skin
scalding my innermost
craving for cool mercy,
but not the radiator on this cold winter morning.

I wished it was you,
your fingers’ touch I shaved for
the soft skin
beneath my roughness
like a treasure chest
hidden with carelessness
exposed with precision
a lifetime quest coming to an end,
but not to avoid turning of shaking heads.

I wished it was you,
I cut my fingernails for
to discover you endlessly
with soft fingertips
like spider legs
identifying their prey
enmeshing it with pleasure
preparing a feast,
but not to make an acceptable appearance.

I wished it was you,
with me under the shower
to clean off the mess
we created in a frenzy just before
like there was no tomorrow
when we would meet again
to mix and dissolve in passion
tell us the three words,
but not the stranger’s voice from the radio.

I wished it was you,
sliding across my toes
along the length of my feet
over my ankles
like your tender fingers did
as your flexible gluttonous tongue had done so often
how your gloriously soft-skinned marvellous breasts used to do
like your throbbing wet flower, starting to bloom the way up my legs, I enjoyed
all of these I miss so much,
but not the newly acquired socks I put on.

I wished it was you,
I laid my shaking hands on
to hold on tight
to twist and turn
like you were a gift made for me
wrapped up in thin, colorful packing
surprise with a bow tied around
that I was always looking forward to open,
but not the Saint Andrew’s knot I learned last night.

I wished it was you,
for whom I dressed in suit pants and jacket
with decent buttons
and pinstripes
like a real gentleman
taking you out on a date in the best restaurant
taking you to the dance floor and let you float
taking you home for one last drink and then to heaven,
but not for everyone else.

I wished it was you,
I spend our last day with
woke up next to and kissed Good Morning
said Goodbye upon leaving
like a loving couple
sharing life and love with
having sex and making love
saying the three words,
but not her.

I wished it wasn‘t you
I will pay a visit
in the smart suit
the black tie and socks
the close shave and manicure
the craving
the sadness
the unforgivable,
but it is you, because I won’t let death too part us.

As I turn to leave, I wished
I hadn’t started the wishful thinking once
so I wouldn‘t need to wish today.