Angel of Dreams

Mapping geography
I trace the river
of her spine
memorize the peaking curve
of shoulder blades,
the shallow valley between
finger the flat, soft skin
at the nape of her neck
she sleeps

all I ever wanted
here and now
relishing
watching
breathing
this unguarded moment
I have no right
pining
fingerprints
oils
love
stain her exposed flesh
I am an intruder
stealing that which
she does not willingly give
I almost feel guilty

painted eyelashes flutter
do angels dream?
I wonder
what she sees
behind closed eyes
do her nighttime metaphores
-void of color-
represent me?
certainly.not.

here she lies
beautiful
tangible
untouchable
the angel of dreams

her scent lingers
covering the pillow
that moments ago
held her rhythmic breaths
in
out
whispering
I search for the place
still warm from her sleep
my mold does not match
it will always be this way
fighting to capture
her discarded heat

the darkness calls
inviting
insidious
inescapable
I relent
tonight I will fly
with my angel of dreams

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