I think about her, with her raven black hair and steel blue eyes.
Sometimes she comes to me in my home.
We talk. She tells a joke, I laugh.
I never tell her about my thoughts.
How I want to press my lips to hers, feel her close to me.
I never tell her how I want to take off her clothes,
see her standing naked before me.
So I undress her in my mind.
She looks beautiful.
But we’re friends. Nothing more.
She tells me how happy she is with her husband, her kids.
So I laugh at her jokes.
And make love to her in my mind.
Sometimes she cries.
I want to kiss her and tell her I’ll protect her from harm.
But we’re friends. Friends don’t kiss like that.
So I tell her she can always call me when she needs a shoulder to cry on.
Stumble!