Disheveled and groggy, I wake to your smile as you calmly run your hand over your face.
Tired eyes meet mine and I welcome you.
I grasp my pillow when I am urged to hold you;
You are not mine.
Your eyes are focused on your phone and impulse begs me to take it,
throw it to the side,
and kiss you.
It beckons me to distract you from the hectic that has been your recent days.
I clench my pillow.
You turn your attention to me and ask what the matter is.
The anger dissipates from your clouded eyes when landing on me.
As dim as the room is, it reminds me of moonlight.
Soft, embracing.
Instead of responding, I trace the flames on your right forearm.
In this moment, I am warm.
You do not further in asking, instead you lean your head against mine and let out an exasperated sigh.
My free hand clenches my pillow.
Inside I am imploring,
"I want to love you how she never could.
"I want to love you purely.
"I want to love you wholesome."
Instead, I softly press my lips against the tattoo I was tracing.
Your fingers loosely find their way to mine, and we lay.
Quietly,
Comfortably.
I recite the moment I kiss your lips.
I plan it, step by step.
Perfectly.
Doubt drowns me out and while our lips are mere inches apart,
this is not the moment I will close the gap.
I instead bring my eyes to yours and scream every emotion I am feeling.
You grin softly at me and lay your head down, closing your eyes.
I lazily drape an arm across your chest and you drift off with an arm around me.
As you drift away to the sleep you **** well deserve,
I whisper all of the things I'd never tell
you
while you
were
awake.