As we lay in bed,
Afternoon creeping in on us,
You said eight words that
Hold you in my head forever.
“I really wish it was raining right now.”
And how I wished it was too.
Not for the simple pleasure of
The covers smuggling
In our warmth and trapping us there,
In as friendly a way as one can be trapped.
Not for the gentle transfer of raindrops from
Windows to our ears.
Not for the plants, not for the trees,
No drought on our minds
But our own.
It was for the washing away of guilt -
Just, sound reasoning to keep ourselves there.
To lay
Just a little longer,
As if the outside world now held nothing for you,
Nothing for me, and, in fact,
Ceased to exist.
The sun broke through your curtain,
Unfair and unforgiving for a November afternoon.
And we lay there,
Just a little longer,
Until a bead of sweat
Slipped down my spine.
“Maybe I should go,”
I said,
And you made no move
To stop me.