Like a romance novel I read
about an Irishman
and the warm side of the bed
and a homestead
and a big chest to lay my head
and,

Honey seeping from my lips
that you throw back and back
coating your throat
and making you float
and making you spin me
watching you fall in
and,

Down as you go
but never on me
certain intimacies kept privy
for another girl who will love you
like you love me
but,

Every week you're here
and I’m here
and your cardio is improving
but your insecurities are making you
pinch me ever harder and
your drunken red head
gets hotter and hotter
weeks go by
and,

I'm craving your scents and
I’m craving the dent
that you made in my bed
but you’re wanting more and more
and that I can’t give
but,

I still crave your high
and riding your body
with your hands on my thighs
big freckled arms
and that noble nose that knows
how to rub my cheek
and you bite my teeth
you caress my moods
and,

Storybook hands that
hold my gaze
look at me sideways
tell me secrets I shouldn't know
say nothing
but,

Sweat drips from your curly orange mop
slow motion splash the pillow
falling down from the crown
cinematic memory telling me
we should have never stopped
but,

We did

And you did

And now I’m here in my bed
that you’ve never been in.