As I

as I trickle down her thighs

on the way to the bathroom

 

and the taste of her

lingers

on my tongue

 

to tell its story

of the moon

 

 and the lock–clasp-lock

of another day

 

eases the shoulders on the release

 of

 this

 this need in me

 and

 in her

 

 as the pillow dent

lies warm for her

return

 

and the tom-tom savage in me

has now boiled

 

and the drawer

in her has opened

 

to soothe and to take

what she needs

 

and

 

in a moment

the pretence

of it

 

will hide

under the covers

 

and

 

in the snuggle

of our skin

 

now cooling in the night time air

and as raw as can be

 

and needing to touch

 much

 much more

 more

 now

 than before

 

 the distant stars will meet

 and the tenderness

will again

 let us rest

 

until the next time