Desired As

Posted in nothing special by maggie on 2011/11/24

I lay awake hours, an hour at least, almost that,
       where he left me, how he left me, just so
I wouldn't interrupt his sleep, make him move
       his hand off my breast, where it had been since
his voice dropped off the precipice we'd flown over
       together out on a hot gust of breath shared
melting me around him burning in through me
       on the bending ripping howling flesh of ancient
symbols still emerging from creation's word
       still there, still beating, burning its way with me
still laid beneath his arm, his elbow heavy
       on my one turned hip, his one bent finger
still leaning into a nipple's open rest, still
       relaxing the arm across my belly rising softly
in time with his own measure, still in synch,
       lying there still, until he rolled over, instinctively
pressing his back against my naked warmth,
       in his sleep reaching back for my arm to wrap
around his contented satisfied fulfilled body,
       and I left my hand there on him while he drifted
off again into his own version of this, still there
       for him for hours lost in him, of him in me
still, still, still going after he has lost himself
       and then when it wouldn't be felt, I slipped away,
got up from our bed and tried to walk it off
       another hour, or tried to make it last, or tried
to feel him still there, until I found it gone. 

He hadn't noticed me gone. I lay uncovered
       wanting him to roll back over against me,
on me, over me, into me again, still in love. 

It kept me awake not knowing what he dreamt.

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