Chimera by M. Stone

I stole your body from a pious man

whose eyes were shuttered to me

by fondness for his wife.

I stuffed your flesh as I would fill

a cloth doll with cotton, endowing you

with all the qualities I desired:

never-ending devotion, 

fierce loyalty, and an ability

to see my physical flaws,

my awkward gait and spiteful ways

and adore me nonetheless. 

You were a Frankenstein creature

in my sixteen-year-old mind, 

a fantasy companion to soothe

the shameful throb between my thighs.

Nursing you on a steady pap 

of melodramatic scribblings,

I willed you to materialize.

Now, alone—always alone—

I welcome the passing years,

the way this ache subsides.

Yet there are still nights

when the waxing gibbous moon

makes a spotlight of my bed,

and I find myself gripped

in the fever dream of you.

M. Stone is a bookworm, birdwatcher, and stargazer who writes poetry while living in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in San Pedro River Review, SOFTBLOW, Calamus Journal, and numerous other print and online journals. She can be reached at writermstone.wordpress.com.