How could he know?
I look at him with my head lowered, lips parted,
through my eyelashes caked with blue glitter.
My heart thunders while his stops.
How could he know?
I remember.
I can feel his skin pressed against mine, moist where we've been lying entwined for too long.
I can feel his breath playing over the skin at the base of my neck,
his hand thrown carelessly over the curve in my spine.
He always sleeps, after.
My hair drapes over my face,
and I move slowly to tuck a lock behind my ear.
The movement disturbs him ever so slightly, and he opens his eyes.
Until next time.
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