Your legs are draped over mine,
eyes closed, smile slung
across your lips like the
make-up across your eyes,
chosen as carefully
as a ****** victim.

My fingers slide up
the side of your leg:
soft and smooth
like the words that
come out of my mouth
and pass into your ears.

Your breathing slows
to a pace comparable
to my own, and with
one arm wrapped
around your sleeping
frame, the other composing
lines on a laptop,
I know that I have found
my Aolde.