Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Not Sure

We meld together here
beneath your sheets,
my arm draped across you,
twisted in something more
than sleep. My hand searches
out your heartbeat
as I watch the rise and fall
of your chest, the flutter of your
eyelids, that tell me your body
isn't finished thinking, yet
isn't quite awake. We've both
been here before, we discover,
on the dark threshold of
foreboding stairs, and
looking into each other's eyes now
is like looking into those
open doorways, not sure where
next to find our footing
when we step through,
not sure where next to place
my hand, not sure whether
we'll fall apart, or fall together,
or merely fall asleep.