All the quiet ways we choose one another.
The air clean of sound
But thick with conscious affection.
A hand on my lower back
And a grasp of your bicep.
My name in your voice feels like sliding into clean cotton sheets.
Like the sun’s first rays pouring through the windowsill.
Isn’t it all to say, I want you when you’re not here. And, I want you when you are.
It’s hard to speak these things.
And so I curl my body around yours and hope you’ll hear my heart as it whispers something sweet to yours.
And to think
Maybe if I could stretch a little further
I’d get even more of you in my arms.
