Desire

There it was again: a beautiful face. This time I saw it on tv but it can show up anywhere. The beautiful face of a man - not a particular one but simply someone I see and like. It can be mature, it can be young. Usually it's a bearded face but not always. Actually, I don't even know how to describe what makes it beautiful: facial hair for me for sure (like a stubbly beard will do), but it can also just be the twinkle in his eyes, the colors of the eyes, the simple but honest smile... single little things could make it qualify for the title "beautiful", the sum of the little things sure is a guarantee for it.

Then, with that face, comes the urge to touch it, feel it, maybe even be allowed to give it a gentle or passionate kiss. My mind starts building those huge fantasy worlds of how it would be... those thoughts of exploring, of discovery.

But then, the program on tv continues, the man on the streets passes by without returning my glance, the fantasy worlds collapse, the daily routine returns.

Yet, all that remains is desire. The desire to be with him, the desire to know how it feels to receive what I would love to give. But that'll be all I ever get: a glance at what I missed many years ago, what I never had, never will.

I rely on the man in my life, my hubby whom I love, a rock in stormy sea, a safe harbour.

Only sometimes that flame of desire flares up a little when I see it: that beautiful face...