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