Sleep well, and sleep in.

[organizedchaos]

As I lay in bed next to you on this glitter gold morning, I try to organize my thoughts, which are flying through my mind faster than I could ever imagine.

It hits me.
I have no idea who you are.

I run my finger along your beautiful cinnamon sugar skin as you sleep, tracing the smooth, defined curve of your muscles, wishing that I could get underneath them and into the sharp edges of you spirit. Past them and into the intricate threads of you heart.

I don’t know you.

I know your tempting body so well, but I don’t know what’s inside of it - underneath it... in between the way the shapes of it rise and fall in your sleep.

Sleep well, and sleep in, because I have no idea what to do when you wake up.

[hillwalker]

Thoughtful - and I'll leave you to sort out those first 5 words (see my previous response to your longer poem)

H

[PrinceMyshkin]

Wonderful! Sometimes the truest love poems are the ones we don't actually speak out loud.

That last line is a magnificent statement of one's dilemma re accommodating ecstasy in the mundane every-day.

[organizedchaos]

Yes, I find that this poem is one that not many people speak about, but rather a vulnerable situation in which many have found themselves in.

[Scheherazade]

To me, this feels more of a good start to a story rather than a poem; a story the ending of which I wouldn't mind reading :)

[Jerrybaldy]

Sympathies with your lay/lie situation, I have the same annoying brainblock.

I enjoyed your piece very much and tend to agree with Scher that it feels more story than poem.
cheers
JerryB