i take your hand and
guide you: touch me here.
there. not too hard,
but not quite so gently.

you blush, the color faint, and
follow my instruction.
like this? you ask.

yes. yes i whisper as you
take me far away. you're good at that.

you smile, kiss my neck.
i scratch my fingernails down your back,
above me, you suck in air through your teeth
as i reach down and grip you.

we roll over. i nibble your ear.
trail kisses down your abdomen
and further. you can hardly breathe.
i pull away and smirk.

we flip again - you are above me,
and slip inside. i moan, unable
to contain myself. you push deep,
deeper. my nails dig into your biceps
and we exhale loudly, in unison,
with each thrust.

.

.

.

later, my head resting on your chest,
you kiss the top of my head
and find myself surprised
by the tenderness that fills me
at the gesture.

surprised that after all the fights,
all the nights full of tears and angry words
fired like missiles,
you still love me.

you still love me.