What if I wrote you a lullaby with verses pulled from moonlight and a distinct chorus of heartbeats…would you fall asleep with our melody in your palms? Pull me close as we sleep and feel how your fingers fit perfectly between each of my ribs. Feel the rise and fall of the cage that holds my heart….your heart….how my breath mimics yours with belated accuracy.

(capture each breath)

Our melody spills out onto my skin as your fingers chase it down my side and around my back which is bare of feathers. You disagree and trace them onto my skin. Behind closed eyes and incoherent sleep talk, you whisper “angel” as your lips make me feel as though I am in Heaven.

(don’t you remember fairytales)

With perspicacious eyes, you’d plant kisses along the ridges of my back, across my shoulders and the hollow beneath my jaw questioning if I was real with every involuntary blink.

“I am not a figment of your imagination,” I exhale when ever inch of me wants to draw you in.

As I open my eyes, I shake my irrational mind and the last trace of you vanishes. My sullen heart slows as she realizes you are not there even though the touch felt so real. My body still responds to just the thought of….us.

(please don’t go)

I write you love letters as I sleep, and when I try to recite them, nothing comes from my lips but made-up words that mean things I cannot quite say. I am in awe of everything that is you and longing to be us. I spill the words off my tongue and onto paper. There I can arrange them to make them speak.

(your heart only)

When you sleep I speak to you. One day you spoke back because you understood the disarray of in-coherency and lullabied whimpers painted in front of you. Just waited for the moment you poured yourself into me and tell me how you feel.

(Until then I will fall back to sleep)