בית קברות למחשבות

my pale right hand lays
harbored between your thumb and forefinger.
our bodies have melted together, as they do.
we have a sequence:

you grab my left shoulder and pull me firmly towards you, I gently oblige.
I tuck my hair under my left ear and away from your face.
you pull me closer still, wrapping my body in your right arm, placing me in your lap and squeezing me into your chest.
I moan, satisfied. you moan, satisfied.
your lips near my right ear finally whisper,
לילה טוב.

often you'll fall asleep before I do.
the loss of your consciousness in my room-sized world pangs me with a little sadness, every time.
another day gone, and I'm alone.

on this particular night, a slight deviation from routine has taken the form of one hand nestled in another, and all of my awareness is focused on it.
I think, in my weed haze, that maybe the faint pressure of your two fingers on my wrist means that I am not alone.
I take comfort in that thought, and soon I am asleep.