the sound of linen rustling
slowly
quietly

as to not to disturb the night
I’m aching to hear the friction
of your skin on mine

how do you move
when darkness has us wrapped
up tight

the way motions slow
between blankets
and racing hearts

do you whisper
as to not to disturb the moon?

would you pull me in
and press me against your skin
as to not to disturb
the night?

I’m stirring
wondering what your lips taste like
just before the early morning
just before the sun light

I’d surrender, I’m sure
I’d fall into darkness
into your bed
into you.

KH