I Crave Your Mouth by Pablo Neruda
From an article, Coping With Urges by Robert Westernmeyer, Ph. D.:
“We experience craving in varying degrees every day. And because your habit has been important to you for a long time, it may be unreasonable to expect urges to vanish completely. What is hoped is that you will come to experience urges with less frequency and that when they are experienced you will be able to react in a way that avoids relapse.”
I keep on hoping to curb these edges, urges, lovely urges — to call you late at night and beg to be asked to climb onto your bed, to reach for a cigarette while listening to the rain outside, to touch myself when I think of you kissing the small of my back — I’ve always hoped to stop, but I never learn.
I Crave Your Mouth
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.