Skin
His skin is the silk sheets I want to sleep in,
My cheek gently on his as we rest.
Limbs wrapped around limbs,
Hands reaching for more, always more,
My soft breast against his smooth chest--
Nothing goes untouched.
I know every bump on his body,
Every curve, every shadow.
I trace lines on his skin through the night,
Drawing invisible reminders,
Feelings he won’t forget when the sun rises.
He listens to my heart in his dreams,
And I wonder what it is he hears.
To me it is blue, to him, something true.
And so with him, I sleep.