I wasn't really interested in the long-line poetry prompt at the official NaPoWriMo website today. So I decided to do my own free-write, which resulted in this bit of prose poetry.
I'm Still Wishing
When people mentioned love, always imagined the damp backs of rose petals in a bed shadowed of canopied lace in some Victorian-embroidered pattern. I thought only of tracing the plush outline of his lips, barely parting in a room lit of candles in the flavor of Jazz Vanilla or Burnt Autumn. I'd dip my mind into scenes from pragmatic love stories and artistic photographs of passion-burned lovers laying beneath a glittery vine of fairy lights. I wished for pillow-scribbled love notes, for sexy-lotioned back-rubs so late at night it's early morning; the coffee-steam of his kisses lulling me into the happy heat of a deep sleep.