Unsatisfied

She lay there quietly under his heaviness listening to him breath and snore. He was slumped like he'd just had the best meal. He was full and satisfied. She wasn't sure how full but knew that she had certainly satisfied him. And now here she lay, unsatisfied. She wanted, needed, something else. More. Sex was ok. But she needed the extras. The before, the after, the in between, the intimacy.  Love. Something she couldn't find. Something they didn't give.

He shifted restlessly. She held her breath and didn't move. She didn't dare disturb him. Imagine that. But she prayed, "God please let him put his arm around me. God please let him put his arm around me." And then flop. Well maybe not a flop. But when she looked back on it now it probably was. She sighed a foolish sigh of relief feeling like she'd gotten something. But really she had obtained nothing. Sadly she was fulfilled. For now. This is the love that was given, maybe all she deserved. All she would ever get. So she took it. Accepted it's mediocrity. He didn't know who he was in bed next to from one night too the next. He would flop the next night on whomever's turn it would be. But for now that didn't matter. She took what she could and snuggled in storing this frivolous minute love up for the nights she had no one and nothing.