St. Elmo's Fire You shift in your sleep, your knee moving to rest against my thigh. You exhale, and I stiffen as you tuck your head beneath the crook of my neck. I tentatively inhale, your hair tickling my nose. I'm enveloped in your scent as I lie here, awake in your bed. Accoustic rock had lulled us to sleep, and later had woken us up. You must've turned it off at some point. I want to roll over, but I'm afraid to move. More than that, I'm afraid you'll move away. I would prefer to remain close to you, but I'm unsure if that's where you want me to be. I'm also unsure if I would be crossing a boundary if I got closer. You roll over, turning away from my neck. I roll over, turning away from you too. Your leg, however, finds mine again. © 2016 Vic Romero
Cataract / Stevo Owens
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