In my bed, there is a man that sleeps soundly. I like having him there. I think he may be dreaming. Perhaps.
For all the times I wish he was in my bed more often and now to have him there and not be able to sleep.
I feel hot. Tired. Uncomfortable. It is an odd night. It usually isn't so. Usually, when we're in bed there's chatter, we talk about random things, about the non-existing us. Sometimes there's passion, it will start with a kiss or a hand placed on a place that marks the start of something hot. Like unsuspecting fire, consumes us quickly, ferociously, we lose control and the world seems to vibrate and lack focus in a marvelous way. My favorite nights are when we have both.
But like everything, every day can't always be the same and some nights like these, quiet and uneventful are good in their own way.
I like knowing he's there. He's been there a lot lately.
It surprises me, scares me, makes me happy, I'll take it while it's there.
Going with the flow... I keep telling myself all kinds of things. Why not? On this sleepless night and while he is there, why not? I'm here, the time is now, and I'm not going anywhere.
*Currently listening to Perfume by Bajo Fondo*
If this person is real, they beat the hell out of my imaginary female consort 'Bettie'.
ReplyDeleteShe's really good at scrabble.
If this person is imaginary, try imagining them playing the clarinet and having soap bubbles appear in the room and float slowly up. Think: Benny Goodman at nice slow tempo. Add a little beatles. Then watch Frost/Nixon. It will put you right to sleep.
* currently listening to " at a medium pace " by adam sandler *
I want to be the lucky man that sleeps on your bed little chiquita banana.
ReplyDeleteHey fun boy. Get a room.
ReplyDelete