these ruffled sheets don't feel like mine .
not quite the smell of my laundry scents either ,
but familiar , like the body pressed against me hours before .
and now again
I was afraid of opening my eyes until I heard his voice
The same soft whisper that came from behind ,
the whisper that drowned out all the other voices in that busy pool hall
I was down by two ***** ,
I was stripes he was solid
it was my game but that he didn't know .
I had been kicked out ,
they called me orphaned , homeless
but that he didn't know , or so I thought
until he whispered against my neck
"if you win I'll take you home"
so we played
I played the way my brother had taught me
learning him as I go , to have him against me
from behind , his rough hands over mine .
I could barely see my fingers , as he guided them
under and over the stick , until we sank a perfect shot .
And I did end up winning , but only because I played it well ,
a hustler they called me , but that he didn't know
He took me home and we laid together ,
the game was over when the eight ball fell in .
Now we both knew how this would go
and go it went until I came over and over again
and he touched upon me again and again
until he came as I did
and we fell to rest
our breathing still synced together
as the rise and fall
and I opened my eyes
this time to the whisper of
a sleepy "hey beautiful"
and those hands gently through my hair
this may not be my bed
but this is my place .
He knows me now