something simple, something soft
and seeping in around the edges—
like a bruised peach,
like your red lips biting into the flesh,
like the juices dripping down.
something sneaks in along the periphery
when i look at you,
you might be washing dishes or
brushing back your hair or doing nothing at all
but when i look at you—
something like a sleeping silhouette,
the curves of a woman
smooth and firm and inviting.
there can be such honesty in love,
truth-telling like you've never dared anywhere
but here in this bed.