I roll pebbles between my fingers,
dancing to a slow song playing only in my mind,
imagining a candlelit ballroom
and a romantic starry sky
and all the makings of a romance novel;
dreaming of a warm body wrapped
around my own.
I wash the pebbles in the sink
with the sweetest smelling soaps
so I can press them to my lips
and feel their smoothness like a kiss of nature,
inhale the soft scent
and know that it is safe and clean and okay.
I keep my pebbles on my bedside table
and I hold them in the palm of my hand,
feeling them turn from stone cold
to warm