Winter night tormented by hauling winds. Lying in bed, mulling over our conversation, I could hear that beautiful raspy voice of his:
“I have seen so much in my life: indescribable humiliations; deep scars on burned souls; dreams crushed like broken glass reverberating on empty floors.
We desperately want to love, to possess each other, caught in a perpetual rush to justify our existence.
Yet, there is no love that can fully satisfy us. The passions of the flesh get exhausted in bed. What is left is exhausted by our imagination.
Love does not bind forever. Mental bonds do.”
Memories of a silky African violet nightgown modeling my flesh. Oh, where are you? Where are you now?
Miguel hit the door of the bedroom with his boot. His metallic shirt buttons were shining in the moonlight. He was fuming. I could feel the heat of his body. I froze.
From the manuscript Glass Lovers