Be(loved)

I’ve watched you sleep,

your silent breaths rising and falling

like the moonlit tide that pulls me toward you.

I have counted the freckles on your skin,

mapped them like constellations,

traced the lines of you in the darkness.

You do not see me.

At least, not in the way I see you

as something sacred, something infinite.

I live in the spaces between your thoughts,

in the quiet moments when our hands

hover just before touching,

when your lips part but do not speak.

I want to be the air that fills your lungs,

the weight that steadies your steps.

Let me in.

Let me love you

the way the moon loves the tide—

pulling, pulling,

always pulling you home.

No need

you turn in sleep

(or something like it)

breath catching on the place

my name used to rest in your mouth.

fingers twitch. eye-lids relaxed  

muscle-memory, In Loving Memory,

the body prays in supine gestures it forgets by morning.

 your throat is bare.  

 I used to live there. 

I am the sigh that never

leaves the room.

the warmth that should

have faded.

the ghost of sweat

on your skin,

of hands pressed deep

into your ribs,

of wanting that

does not die.

Everything

 You were my everything 

Through forest and trees

Beyond questioning

You were my absolute             and

I guess that was too much