I sit, gasping and choking
On the shards of your love.
The warm trickle of blood
Coats my throat as they
Tear and shred rip.
I spit out the offending pieces
Of what is left of us,
But the bitter taste of your
Indifference and selfishness remain.

I want to run to a quiet place,
With children and a dog and a fireplace.
Where the white picket fence out front
Wraps me in a cocoon of simplistic joy.
I want to be held, not because of what I
Give, but because of who I am.
I want to feel the soft embrace, smell the sweetness,
Feel the warmth of soft breasts and the taste of
Sweat on nipples.
I want to be loved as me, as I am.   
Loved for what I am, not what I bring.
Embraced, touched, kissed, pleased, held.
Just for being me.