You think love ends when you do not see me?

You think wanting you stops just because you’re out of sight?

Every breath of mine beckons yours to meet it.

Each drop of sweat on my skin longs for your tongue.

You think I don’t wonder what you taste like in the morning?

My body pulses with the sound of your voice.

I swear I can still smell your skin.

And I stole one of your shirts.

The inconvenience of it all is little to endure,

compared to the ache in my core and the void in my heart.

The gentle union of our hands.

A head resting in a lap.

Our bodies sinking into each other.

A tangle of limbs wound together.

What we promised.

The things said in the dark.

Am I not always with you?

If not, I am certainly lost.

mbz/2009

thinking of my muse

I could never be ungrateful for any of it.

Every good and painless moment.

Every bad and painful moment.

All of them of no consequence.

Every sensation, every tear, each squeal of laughter,

all of the moments my breath was taken away,

every slap and caress of my skin,

the endorphins, the adrenaline.

Every heartbreak and heart-melt.

The bitter, the sweet.

I wouldn’t change a second of any of it.

Not one motion or sentence.

Everything and every breath

exactly as it happened.

With the next breath I met you.

That gave purpose to every moment

that led to that moment.

Finding you was the fate of it all.

Mystery of mysteries.

Wonder of wonders.

Beyond the beyond.

Moment of moments.

I could never be ungrateful for any of it.

melissa b zeligman/2008

Looking for a man who enjoys drinking O.J. straight from the container, loves to find change at the bottom of the washer, knows the reason why dry wine is wet and who invented the kiss. He must have a quick-witted mouthful of sarcasm, enjoy caffeine at a spiritual level, and can stay up all night watching movies. On the spur of the moment, he will know the definition of cacophony and mellifluous and can whip up a batch of mashed potatoes. He can recite at least one love poem by heart and has read the Lotus Sutra. He believes in Santa Claus, anniversaries, holding hands and fireflies. He requires the understanding that there are days that breakfast is served at dinner, days we never shed our pajamas, and that at times I spend whole afternoons reading in the bathtub or perfecting the playlists on my iPod. He needs to have an inexhaustible supply of fine point pens, be thought provoking, and own a passport and a yoga mat.