Firelight dripped candle wax. He sat hunched at the desk, the windows dark, the breeze unhinged. The grizzly shadow of three days upon his face matched the rustic nighttime wilderness, rough and unpleasant to kiss. Steam lifted from his midnight mug of French roast, cream swirls adding an elegance to his otherwise masculine world.

Dark hair, messed and tossed by an equally disheveled hand, fit neatly along with the rest of the sprawling room.

He sighed.

A portrait of blue eyed smiles were what had stirred him. They sat there now, half smiles grinning from an over stuffed desk drawer. Memories hid among cobwebs, post-it's, dead pens and office supplies.

"There they are..."

Eyes shut. With a deep breath of stagnate midnight air, tainted by the scent of coffee and regretted past, he pushed shut the drawer.

A blue light pulsed, sending a vibrating tingle through the plywood desk top. He watched, and listened as his phone rang . . .

Lips

I once saw these items as special.

Somewhere this sight of mine changed. People stole things from me. My perceptions were stolen. Hugged away.

A calculated night of brushes, leading to a palm kissing a shirt clad lower back. That was in February. A one night, closed door, embarrassing and young night merged into months of moments made of 1 a.m. to 4 a.m. Friday to Saturday escapades.

Some moments tender, others frightening...

Drawing teeth scared kisses.

Then there was the German. Short lived. Two swivel chairs in a classroom.

Palm to hip. Mint gum breath cast with compliments. Leaving the country...why not.

Squeezed into a Cinderella dress, course black puff around my knees, in his bed. Chasing his fingers down. Kissing a sleep deprived soul upon my too used bed.

He stood before me. And took something too fast that I wasn't willing to give. Even in innocence.

To being mentally pursued after a poorly poured evening. Shaken and alone with a dead phone. Compliment filled e-mails. Intellectually stroking moral character.

And the original of it all...

Well...

Whores and boredom are things of the past.

Will there be a kiss goodnight now???

Let it be cold out again, so that we may lay on the bed...and I'll compliment you on your arm.

I'll listen.