This is what you look like when you sleep

A stillness eclipses across your face;
midnight
and on your side

twin
globes furrow
beneath eyelashes;
thick threads lace across skin

a row of braids,
like school girls.

All innocent, silent, and so still.

Each breathe breaks
around the wave of your mouth,
I want to take each intake, take it
into me; swallow

every angle and edge.

This is what you look like when you sleep:
arm; spider-wide stretched across the pillow,
neck, tightens and twitches.

I’m alone here in this space with you;
wandering without movement and words,

wallowing,
in love with falling out of love with you.
Within you,
your face
frozen against my breast.

In the dark
I whisper.