still holding you

Now you are larger than me but I still hold you in my arms. I still see your tiny face and remember your tiny fingers. You may even have your own tiny one, yet I still your eyes staring back at me from the security of my arms. I still remember the sweaty scent from a little head resting on my shoulder. There are your eyes looking up at me and me looking at you adoringly. No man feel this and I am sad for them. This is only ours.

young

On a tangled mess the morning light peaks through the blinds. Does it see the image I have in my head? The one of us surrounded by crumpled sheets and blankets falling to the floor? The vision in my head is, me, lying in what you call 'the after glow', blissfully and unabashedly naked. I see a young man laying next to me without the lines and scars of a full life on his body and I hope he sees a young woman in love, not the one with body gently ravaged by life, the imperfect one I see in the mirror after I shower. I haven't been here before in this place of abandon. I don't need to pull the covers up over me. Every muscle is relaxed, even the ones that are tense the rest of the day, my blood is quietly flowing through me, a little fairy telling every cell to rest now, warmth blows gently over my skin. I have indulged myself again in you. The smell of you, the sight of you, the taste of you, the sound of you.