Don't rob me of my nights

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Beautiful nights

Submitted: August 16, 2017

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Submitted: August 16, 2017

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Laying with you by a

window which seems

to tear up into the sky

And curtains as long 

as oceans, rippling

open

And the dark seeping 

in like a blanket

of vivid black fox fur

Flaxen, shiny and shimmering

with diamonds

and that mysterious glow of light.

With you it's enchanting,

how the night could

have threads by 

which it's all stitched together

into a scenery which,

With you, leaves me

with no hope of fighting,

Not succumbing.

This is my destiny.

It all seems to be

part of my weaknesses

The night, the shimmering diamonds,

The silhouette through

windows as big as doors

of a porch on an open sea of city.

But most of all it's you.

You laying there,

like with your last flap of

eyelids shut for the night,

you made it all so.

Me - sinking deeper

into the night, and 

you.

 

I'm not sure what

has changed so much

From laying in this exact position at

home, and here,

Yet somehow I can't imagine spending

a night more any other way.

I'm stiff, I can't move - Your head on me,

Your leg on me

Uncomfortable

tightening, shifting, crushing my chest

with a million of those stardust 

stinging, burning there.

And yet I'm transfixed,

Utterly powerless

I want to be nowhere else

 but disintegrating 

under this,

if that's what it means.

Being crushed, being

shoved, stuffed,

with duvet

- but seeing you

with your soft eyelid.

And hair standing in it's springy way.

Yielding to each of 

my fingertips and

coming back up for more,

beckoning me to smooth it out

To reach you, even

while you're in another

world, and clinging

to me like a baby.

 

Your brow

And the way your lip

sits, like when

it was made it knew

and some other power laughed,

knowing this little

place would be where

I want to perch for eternity,

if there is that.

And I hope there is

because I can't fathom even blinking

and not knowing if it moved or

stayed there in it's exact same

way,

not knowing how much

I'm in love with it.

*

And when it's animated

- my God.

But now, even now,

I feel it speaking to me when you 

don't,

and I can't sleep.

 

But it's not that.

I don't sleep anyway.

The night has a

way of swaying

me to tip toe back

into the open arms of the

unknown, thrill me into depths

I never reached before.

Yet all I want to do

when you burn me in that way,

leaving a print of

your cheek on my chest and your

heavy arm on my rib,

is melt

And let you mould into me

Until I'm nothing

more but puddle with eyes.

But don't rob me of 

my nights.

 

Because if I'm still up

and have movement of

my arms

And a little corner

with some light

I'd just write

and write

and write

For you.

Ache and sprill and cry

And erupt with

no one to worry but the moon

So that when I'm

back, even with

you not pressing on me

yet 

I'm wearing you.

And I need that.

Because otherwise

I might really 

die

Disintegrate under

you, never wanting

to move again.

 

You'd wake up to

sprouts of me

caused by you

Let me stretch,

so when I'm back

I can take being

swept up by you.

 


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