I Touched Myself, And I Thought Of You

Crickets sung me to sleep on the night that I thought I might love you.

I shut the passenger side door and passed in front of your car. Your headlights were directly on me, stamping cookie cutter shapes on the cement adjacent to me. The crickets were especially loud that summer, perfect for filling the pauses of comfortable silence between us. They chirped and created a symphony with every crunch of Long Island crabgrass beneath my feet.

I reached the front door and glanced back at you, only to see your tail lights disappearing into the night. I latched the door tightly behind me and jolted to my room where I undressed.

I sprawled out across my bed. My body motionless, my eyelids heavy, but my heart, it raced and passed through each checkpoint as it rattled around in its cage.

My fingertips danced along my hips, twisting in circles toward no predetermined destination. My mouth let out a gasp of air while still savoring the taste of you on my lips. My hand let my palm take a fistful of the down comforter until I finally caught up with my breath. My legs rhythmically rubbed along my sheets, creating a soft whisper that lulled me to sleep.