His arms held me close
A musky bubble of belonging, securing me.
A musky bubble of belonging, securing me.
A comfortable him,
And the passing monsoons.
The glasses on the doors and windows
Almost encouraging love,
Turning frosty with cold, shutting us into our own.
The curtain rejoicing in dance steps of just one kind.
His breath in pattern warms the back of my neck,
Slower than the most swift hand on the clock.
The stillness of the room,
The rushing of the heart.
Some skipped beats,
Some spilled clothes.
Wandering fingertips, making shapes on me,
Or writing a love song - I cant tell.
I whisper his name into his year.
He, in sleep replies - a grunt.
Never a more charming voice.
Never a more desirable sound.
A minute before it would ring,
I shut the alarm
For it would break the swirl.
For it would stir the surface.
For then my dream would burst,
And again I'd feel silly about my pillow.
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