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.