Love in Hexasyllables XLIX: Con(-)tact
Curling up against you
on the worn-out sofa,
I warm my aching hands.
One wrapped round a fresh mug
of coffee (no sugar),
one pressed between leather
and the small of your back.
During commercial breaks,
you readjust yourself.
I leave my hand in place;
you never move enough
for it to risk freedom.
Once the coffee grows cold,
and my hand weary of
bearing your weight but warm,
I will take it away.
Lying in bed, we face
different directions
but our spines almost touch,
these curves of flesh and bone.
The heat of your body
is lost between the sheets,
one set for you in blue
and one for me in green:
old habit from before
waiting to be unlearnt.
Perhaps this time around,
we will surprise ourselves
by waking face-to-face,
limbs intertwined. Or not,
but in case, I turn and
hold just one hand in mine.
on the worn-out sofa,
I warm my aching hands.
One wrapped round a fresh mug
of coffee (no sugar),
one pressed between leather
and the small of your back.
During commercial breaks,
you readjust yourself.
I leave my hand in place;
you never move enough
for it to risk freedom.
Once the coffee grows cold,
and my hand weary of
bearing your weight but warm,
I will take it away.
Lying in bed, we face
different directions
but our spines almost touch,
these curves of flesh and bone.
The heat of your body
is lost between the sheets,
one set for you in blue
and one for me in green:
old habit from before
waiting to be unlearnt.
Perhaps this time around,
we will surprise ourselves
by waking face-to-face,
limbs intertwined. Or not,
but in case, I turn and
hold just one hand in mine.