The sheets cradled you
in poignant wrinkles of gold and cream
every angle where your body bent
was like a brush stroke on a cloud
my eyes strayed across impressions
that your body made on your rumpled clothing
hills rising of hot breath and need
valleys created out of the vaccuum in your lungs
my fingertips could already feel
the rasp of your hair beneath thin material
the ridge of muscle buffered by white cotton
a thin band of golden skin
was showing across your lower stomach,
a swath of poison that my tongue ached to taste
I could see your lashes tremble
to hold their place as prison bars
against the reality that was seeping in
in your darkened place you could feel me, too
and I was content in the knowledge
that I was that much inside of you.