There is something more to this than I ever expected;
Yes, I love the glisten of your eyes, your voice inflected
With echoes of the lust so blatant in your roving hands,
That slide over my body forcefully - wordless commands
To press my body to your own, to meld myself to you,
The tantalising shadows of your throat, your sighing - true,
I love all that. But more, I've come to love the silences
The moments of communion, the slow, hypnotic stillness

Broken only by your breathing, your thumb circling my palm
In a rhythmic tender motion, half unconscious. With your arm
Slipped over my shoulders, my arms crossed across my chest,
Holding your hands behind my back. I've come to love this best,
And it scares me in a way. It seems almost to prove
That nothing can be simple if it opens you to love.
I never meant to love you, for it seemed a simple thing;
We both knew what we wanted - an inconsequential fling

To take the edge off living for a short circumscribed time,
And go our seperate ways again. This purpose is still mine,
In most particulars at least; but be aware of this
That when I opened up my mouth to welcome in your kiss -
That tang of cigarettes and alcohol out in the rain -
I foolishly allowed my heart to open up again.
I care for you now, but be not alarmed, please have no fear -
I will not fall in love with you, but with the mere idea.