I want you.
To reach
over and touch your hair.
The
permission to do it anytime,
To wipe the
bed from your head.
To kiss your
face and remember how beautiful your eyes are.
To look past
your impatiently shaking leg and move it beneath me instead.
I want to
color in the lines of your tattooed arm,
Make the ink
explode from my fingertips into the palm of your heart.
You can draw
shapes in my freckles in exchange.
I want the
weight of your mind to mingle with mine.
I want to
talk till dawn on the porch of our house
Covered in
quilts
Dealing
another round,
(Pouring
another one too)
Never going
to sleep, but dreaming the future into now.
You are
present.
Your smooth
hands across my back,
Lips on my
shoulder blade
Filling in
the ink on my own battered tattoo.
I want to
drink your ink
The deep, dark ocean of you.
Bury me at
sea.
I wake up drowning, aching for land -
Long
landscapes sweeping, screaming.
There is no
rescue from this.
