through broken blinds, the setting sun
making your tan skin tender.
You’re sporting my underwear, and I’m in
your oversized shirt from the night before.
It smells like you,
a kind of coconut that only comes from five dollar shampoo.
You lay lax, bare chest pressed,
to my mattress. Your loose hair gathers
in the dip of your back, your soft inhales shifting
the thick coils in rhythmic succession.
My hand twitches to reach out
and tangle in the soft strands,
yet I hold back.
Aware of the frail trance
keeping you in my presence.
My CD player rests on the floor,
the reason you’ve stayed longer than you planned.
The faint bass thrums low, the sound of soul flowing
through my small room.
My skin stings as you trace my collarbone,
the feeling of your long nails something
I’ve come to crave.
My eyes grow heavy, but I keep my gaze on you, my heartbeat
matching the rise
and fall of your chest.
The song ends, you lift your head, blinking away
any sleep kind enough to try and keep you in my bed.
I’m not giving your shirt back.
