| Watching you, Watching me I watch through my lashes as you tiptoe like a thief to my bed, trying not to wake me from my pretend sleep. Tangles of blonde hair hang down into midnight blue eyes, and your navy blue jeans swish, denim pendulums against one another. Your white t-shirt hangs limp, like a flag without wind, outlines your slight build, traces the curves of muscle. You stand like a giant; the shadow looming over me; the scent of you weaves through the air, smells of Suave and skin and man. You slide into my bed, slip into the cracks of my shield and lie down beside me. Your arm curls over my waist, like a snake slithers over a tree limb. You don�t rest your head next to mine; instead you stay, propped on one elbow and watch me sleep. One long finger, soft as a rain drop, traces the curve of eyebrows, grazes the tips of eyelashes that fall like crescent moons on my cheeks, slides down the bridge of my nose, down barely creased laugh lines, and trails the slant of my chin, as if to memorize the feel of my skin stretched over bone, of skin sliding across skin. Your hand stops, strokes my lips, as though to feel my breath warm and soft like the last spring breeze against your fingers, afraid it might stop, afraid I�ll wake up when you whisper that you wish you could love me. |