Souvenir Soreness II

                At this time, his plane is probably taking off for Lima.  Not having the heart to look at the specifics of his itinerary, all I can feel is my heart stretching too far, too fast.  I worry if I’m elastic enough.  I imagine snapping being fatal.  I imagine possibilities that he’d never return, leaving me torn.  My imagination is being very unkind to me in this moment.

                Left alone in a hotel suite, in this spacious king-sized bed, my only company are these tingling sensations.  Without thinking, my fingertips are at my shoulder, softly tracing the indention of his teeth marks in my skin.  Once again, I find comfort in the souvenir of soreness.  I spent the morning revisiting my neck, my chest, my feet…  My ass, my thighs, my belly…  Although he’s gone, I can still feel the subtle throbbing from where he’s bitten me.  The further he travels away from me, the more I hunger for him.  I’m glad to have such a living example of his hunger for me.

I need all the validation I can get.