My Soul is Restless

Something is not right in my soul, there’s something amiss. I feel ill at ease, anxious maybe, like I’m suffering from withdrawal; something’s just not right. Old folks used to say, “Honey, you just have a good ole fashioned case of the blues.” It’s not that I’m depressed or melancholy; I’m simply frustrated. My body is aching for connection, touch, for intimacy. Really, what I feel right now can be summed up with two words. I’m lonely.

I want to dive into that magical bond with a man that is chemical, genetic even. I want to sit across a bistro table in the warm summer night air and stare into beautiful brown eyes and laugh at silly jokes and flirt. I want to smile . . . just smile from my heart when I see him. I want my hand to fit perfectly in his when we walk along the water’s edge, staring at the full moon, and feel him put his arm around me when I get a chill. I need that romantic, thoughtful, sweet, amazing brotha in my life who takes my breath away every time I see him.

I want to kiss. Oh God, I want to kiss for hours. I want to feel his body on top of mine, feel his arousal pressing against my body, his hands roaming over my entire curves while he whispers in my ear, “Scottie, I want you.” I want to be serenaded by Coltrane playing softly in the background as I feel his lips kissing the nape of my neck, nibbling softly on my ear. I need to fall asleep in a brotha’s strong arms, feel his body conforming to mine, our naked bodies covered by a soft, white, cotton sheet as a ceiling fan swirls above us.

I’m lonely. I miss the sensations that only a brotha can bring. I want to make love. I want to join body, mind, and spirit together in a hot, sweaty union of passion and bliss. I want to fuck for hours: tasting, touching, exploring and every inch of his body. I want to feel my orgasm building to a fevered pitch, feeling the pleasure consume my body as I fight it, as I struggle to channel that energy up my chakras through the top of my head. I miss the sensation of my juices flowing freely, that slippery, sticky sweat coating our bodies.

I can’t sleep at nights. I don’t like going to bed alone. I toss and turn in solitude, longing for that touch, that connection that I crave so intensely because I’m a better woman when I’m connected. I offer up my prayers, my petition to the One Most High that I might find a partner with whom I can connect and bond intimately.

Scottie Lowe