CANDID

You’re still asleep when I wake up,

It’s unlike you, but you must be too tired

from our late night spent making love

until we were both breathing heavy and satisfied.

You must be too tired move closer to my body in your sleep,

tired enough to stay relatively still as I accidentally pull on the covers.

 

Your back is exposed as you sleep on your stomach

and I can see the scar you often keep hidden,

dark and discolored, almost unreal against your skin.

You don’t let anyone see it, and I’m the only one allowed near it.

It comforts me, in a way, because I wasn’t there when you were hurt,

when you were in pain and needed me most.

When you were in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and I wasn’t there to protect you.

 

I look past your scar, see the blades of your shoulders are sharp,

like steel, yet the skin is soft and welcoming.

There’s a reddish purple bruise on the right side,

if I look hard enough, I can see teeth marks,

a small but obvious reminder of our intimate moments from the night before.

 

Your hair is favoring the side you sleep on

but it billows over skin and pillows,

like a river, flowing freely.

I like to run my fingers through it when you’re asleep,

my hand already curved to cup your cheeks

as my fingers brush through the strands.

 

I can hear your breathing;

you’re so quiet and sometimes I need to remind myself

that you’re still taking deep breaths.

In and out. In and out.

So quiet, I lean in to listen.

In and out. In and out.

 

I pull the blankets higher because you must be cold.

They’re up to your shoulders again and my arm drapes over your body.

The movement makes you stir,

a slight twitch before you’re opening your eyes and letting out a soft moan.

 

Your eyes are bleary and unfocused as you look at me,

but after blinking once, twice, I can see clarity and understanding.

Your eyes close as you yawn,

so quietly, I’m still taken by the shape of your mouth.

When you open your eyes again, I see the faded gold I love so much.

You smile as I chuckle, “what is it? Why are you laughing?” you ask.

 

“No reason,” I say, leaning in to press my lips against your forehead.

You laugh in return before your hand touches my cheek.

In a quick motion, your fingers are wrapped around my ear

in that gentle and less subtle way of possession

as you pull me in for a kiss on the lips.

 

When we separate, you sigh, “good morning.”

I wrap my arms around your smaller frame and smile.

“Good morning.”