My heart

Occasionally I forget my voice and get lost in my thoughts.
Today is one of those days.
I drift silently through the day wondering where I belong,
and why any of this matters.

To be faceless in a sea of people waiting to be seen.
My eyes cast down, my mind in the distance, searching.

I have a heart and I want it to be seen, to be shared.
No man wants it.

They want my heat, and my flesh,
my moans and my writhing.
my tongue and my mouth,
my legs and my hair,
my hips and my ass,
but not my heart.

And not my voice.
Unless it's sounds of passion.

Most women would stay to feel needed,
I have to feel needed to want to stay.

I tire easily of casual exchanges of passion,
they don't get me going like they used to,
there was a time I needed the release with a man I cared nothing for,
but now it just leaves me tired,
and bored,
knowing I can do better,
and they probably can't,
and don't care, because these men have no goals,
no desires beyond Friday night,
no need to yearn for more than their paychecks
and the life they already have.

I need more,
and not because my life is unfulfilled,
but because life is about more than what's in front of us,
more than what is at our fingertips.