Winter mornings are silent- noises smothered liked packed snow.
I stay wrapped up in bed long after I wake.
I dream of retraced kisses from the nook of your ear down to your collarbone.
My pulsing heart a mountain stream, a soft hum of water spilling over moss topped rocks.
Our breath puffs like glowing smoke under a full moon. You unbutton your coat
and pull my hands inside. I feel your skin breathe beneath a tight t-shirt.
You kiss my mouth, sucking my bottom lip until you’re sitting on the
hood of my car. The metal is like ice. A thin layer of frost hugs the back window.
I imagine never getting up. Spending the entire day under five blankets.
Never waking to the reality of what went cold between us. Of the weight that comes
from not knowing how to kill a dead thing.
The pounds it stacks onto our tight smiles.
My right hand curled rigid atop my pillow, below my cheek. You stay asleep like stone.
Your naked body only heat beside my own.
Your arms tie around me, eyes still shut. I drop my head to your chest and strain to
read heartbeats stuck snug under the cotton of my limp quilt.