Her name is Kayleigh.

Her name is Kayleigh, and
last night I let a rush of hot water strip her kisses from the side of my neck.
I smiled to them as they fell down the drain because I knew that there would be more.  
Being by her side used to help me sleep, but these nights I'm staying awake
because in the smallest upward curve of her lips I can see, I can taste
that reality is kinder than our dreams.
I want to sing in her ear, then bite it.
I spin a hundred poems for her,
and then I provoke in her the anger that comes with being woken up by a playful jab to the side of the rib--
and it never ceases to amaze me how she still invites my arms around her. It makes me laugh.
I asked my skin that glowed with the shadow of her touch,
Is it supposed to feel this good to love?
The lingering scent of her in my bed told me yes,
And I trust it as I have trusted her,
because she is not afraid.
I will go where she goes.
I will kiss her out of every bad dream;
I will still want her when I have everything;
And I will savor the gift that it is to call her Kayleigh

Kayleigh, because she is my Kayleigh.