Midnight Confessional

You're breathing. So am I. 

But it's different. 

Yours is peaceful, automatic. 

You're sleeping. 

Mine is careful, jagged.

I'm watching you sleep.  Not making a sound. 

 

There's something about it. 

Your chest moves up and down,

your nostrils flare,

yet I can't see what comes out of your mouth,

your nose. 

 

What if we could see breath?

Would it have a language of its own? 

Would it betray us like our words do? 

Would it betray us like our thoughts do? 

 

I want to kiss you.  At this moment. 

But I don't.  I feel myself backing away. 

 

I need you...your emotion. 

I need your sideways glance, coyness,

playfulness, anger, jealousy, breathing,

puffing in...out...in...out. 

I need your love, lust, your climax,

It makes me elated,

to prove that I can please someone. 

 

I'm backing away.  I need all those things.

But not now.  Not now. 

You're breathing. 

That's enough...I won't stop you.

I'll drop the pillow.  I'll walk away.

The End

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