happy hallmark day

"Weaving"

Maybe when I asked you to stop and stay inside for just a second.
The two of us suspended like that, trying to slow our breathing,
and I was happy to be weighed down and dissolving into this compromising intimacy.
Words dropping one by one.  I secretly spoke them too.
If you had only known to hold my face and just take me,
instead of burying yourself in my hair as I made a home beneath your covers,
I'm telling you now
when I pressed harder against your back, you should have just taken me.
Then there was your hand on my shoulder blade,
slipping lower and lower
and lower.
But that's where it stopped, on the small of my back,
and there it stayed as you fell asleep; there it stayed still as I drifted away
with your hand print searing hard into my skin.
And I held it there because I felt I had to.
I didn't mean to wake you when I lifted myself to my hands and knees.
But I'm not sorry I woke you for you grabbed my waist and pulled me down
and held me in a kiss.
How about our re-definition of comfortable?
You're laughing at my clumsiness or the ways I phrase my thoughts,
as I feel your fingers trickle along my neck, then slipping underneath my shirt,
a hush settling in as I search for a racing heart beat,
bypassing the formality of light conversation before I can finally sink into you.

For days we sat like that, watching the ocean lapping against the shore,
and every time I looked over to you,
I wished it could be something else.
I wish you were someone else.