I'll always wait for you in the hours before rest
where sleep nips at my heels
and exhaustion clouds my eyes
but, unchangingly, you come near.

I never see you appear,
but you slip your fingers in the space
between my elbow
and waist,

and you slide your hands
from spine to navel,
and grasp your own elbows
with opposite hands.

Your strong jaw rests amply
in the soft crook of my neck,
and your coarse ****** hair finds comfort
nearest my flushed cheeks.

I breath a sigh of relief.
This is my home;
this is where I truly find rest.
And I wake up, and you're gone,

like you have been for many years,
and my lungs feel tight,
and my back bare,
and there

I wait
for you,
endlessly,
in these waiting hours.