at midnight
your eyelids fluttered shut
and i had already turned
my back against you,
hands clasped - almost
as if in prayer: a silent murmur
before sleep took over,
to always feel the
curve of your arm
around my waist and
the faint kiss of
your breath on my nape.
at dawn,
i want to touch
the softest part of
your skin; splay my fingers
across them and
feel you shift back into
my embrace. pretend
that each stroke
marks you; indelibly -
as mine, just
before you
wake.
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