Aftershock

i remembered your feet before i went to sleep
and how ours would touch endlessly
even as we grew tired, they never did
i never got tired of you, never ever never ever.
soft feet, connecting legs twisted, coiled
under light blanket, slight sweat made them stick together
my thighs hugging one thigh, your thigh, my thighs
connecting lips kissing your hips, underneath the sheath.
if you coughed i felt it, if you laughed then i laughed too
if you shivered and shook i was there to echo your repercussions
call me your gentle aftershock. arms locked around your neck
ear pressed against your chest, trying to listen, trying to hear a noise
hoping to hear a voice that begs me to stay, a whisper, a murmur
this is too comfortable to lose. i refuse to let go
while you stroke my hair, dirt caked under your fingernails,
a poignant blessing. i often wonder if it will ever be this easy,
that i may find a time when waking up is natural,
feet touching feet, for hours, weeks. never ever
did i ever grow tired of you, even after hours of sleep

written on October 26, 2008

(i love your poetry. your words are a beautiful adventure just waiting to be explored.
Posted by Ashlee on 05 Nov 08 Wednesday - 12:32 AM)