I Saw You as Tall

I saw you as tall, lying in bed,

stretched out amongst your sheets,

your head to the side, eyes closed, breathing

deeply - your arms stretched above you,

or sometimes framing your face, as if in your 

sleep you were conscious of your beauty

and strove to pose, perhaps for me.

I hated disturbing your perfect slumber.

I never saw you small, or minuscule,

your toughness was no joke, your size, your force

not something with which to be reckoned,

but in my mind you were stretched out, 

your body the length of your soul

which was the length of the bed, the room,

probably longer - if I opened the door

I'm sure your heart would leak outside,

being as big as the space you occupied.

I remember watching you and imagining

that, if you were to wake up, stand up,

then and there your height would surpass my own,

or if I were to lay against you, there would be

no difference to our size - it never felt as if there was.

The image of you quietly breathing,

giving into the world that sense of calm

and utter peace, comes back to me

every now and then. And the tallness

of you. The elegant tallness of you.

You, my equal, as tall as I,

except for those moments when

right before saying good night,

I could wrap myself around you

and take your tallness in mine,

intertwined,

intertwined,

interwined.