Like steam rising on water,
your heat is obvious from a distance–
so I slip out of my shorts before
sliding in beside your sleeping form.
Scent escapes the separated sheets–
musk sweat and cologne drifting up and out.
Your body responds instinctively, rolling inward
and wrapping itself possessively around me.
Rough hands begin to rove, unthinking,
under my shirt and between my legs…
I very softly tell you “not now,”
though I know you do not hear…
Your fingers sleepwalk across my flesh,
wandering, like a man lost in the dark.
Crooked and repetitive, you keep circling
back to where you have already been.
Heat-drugged and slow, we sigh ourselves
repeatedly back to the brink of sleep.
Each time we awaken slightly,
your breath is quickened in my ear.
I find solace in your sleeping touch,
so solid and expected..
smiling each time I push a your hand away,
comforted by the sureness of its return…
so much so that you search in your waking dreams–
a hunger that is primal sweetness and lust
rolled into something we call love.
Day 9 Topic: “H” – Hunger
No, you are not going crazy…the alphabet has not changed, and, yes, I missed day.
It’s not like I even really have much of an excuse, but there are truly days where inspiration and motivation elude me. I find that happens more and more often as I am cooped up in the same environment day after day. All the projects loom. The gardening calls. Work is ever present. And yet, I find myself just curling up on the couch, avoiding. Everything.