So I stare.
Her hair clings to her forehead,
Still wet from sweat.
Two lovers -- nude,
In separate worlds now.
Our final passionate squeeze echoes loudly in my mind.
A light kiss, then. She awakens not.
I hover near her placid face,
My hand rests upon her shoulder—petite, kissable –
The Great Artist’s greatest work: her curves.
A puff of warm sweet air washes my face.
I breathe in – craving another wisp.
Her lips part as she breathes out.
The sound! The sound! Oh god, the sound!
I surrender and embrace again;
She stirs to drape an arm about me.
A tear falls. She wakes.
Her whisper is as quiet as her breath
And she asks, why do you cry?
Because I am so deeply in love with you.