Shame I do not have much hair that I can let down like her, or so she thinks………….the smell and sight of her long hair arranged on the pillow would always arouse……..my own fingers unable to resist travelling down to that warm, soft valley at the base of her back where her hair almost reaches, between two firm mounds.

She has pulled far away now……………too far for me to reach again it seems, however far I stretch my arms. Now my fingers can only play on the keyboard. Not soft and smooth like her. But it can still achieve the hardness that she craves.

If only I had grabbed her more firmly when I could, when she was within reach, and been able to be my other self; told her some of what I try to say here. Instead, we settled into and played out our defined separate roles, of Mamma and Papa. My other self became a Mr Lost, but one never to be found, filed away and forgotten.

I admit that she did hint at times, but too cryptically for me. Not demonstrably as now. The message did not get through. I was not tuned in - as Papa she would not let me find and ring her bell. But if I had, unlike others, I would not have run away. It’s not a game I play.

I could not find that spot, that bell. She kept it from me it seems. Legs entwined, but not around me. If only she had pulled me on to her, looked with open eyes into mine own without closing them and perhaps dreaming of others, and let me know more clearly what she “really” wanted from me, we would not be lost as now.

All it would take is the tiniest hint, a caress, a gentle kiss, any indication that desire is not completely extinguished. That “bitter and twisted” could be put aside and is not all that I imagine that she reserves for me; and she thinks I hold for her. She could release such a fiery passionate flame that has thus far been well suppressed, kept under tight control, believing that it was not something I held for her. I know that she is not just Mamma. And I am not just Papa.

Ignite it. The pilot light still flickers………….it’s not gone out. It’s right here – she’s just not looked for it in the right place, searched with the right questions, probed with her fingers. Why does she seek to find it like a needle in a haystack, across the screen when it is here, beside her all along?

At least she should know that I can spell Love, not just Sex. I, too, want her to find the old “ME” that was her (and I). I’ll even lie on the trampoline, gazing at the stars, if it would let us bounce again. I know that she can summersault and do handbrake turns. If only she would show me. Do it for “ME”. Do it for her.

But, it’s all just wishful dreaming. My own little fantasy to escape my impending reality.

As surely as the Titanic filling with water, I know that we are sunk. But I hope that she will allow me a little grace, like her, to fantasise a little myself even. No harm intended. Just love escaping………..dripping away, like a leaking tap.

Lonely With You, Lonely Without You.