There is no place like home when your fingers untangle me
along with my hair. Fingers tracing through my heart, my mind and finally to
the tips of my hair. Untangle me once more.
Sitting by the window I wait for the rains. You come in,
with your book, brush my hair and find a spot at my feet. The smile that you
flash at me could end wars. Has anyone told you that? Your eyes dart past pages
looking for the book mark; my eyes can’t stop looking at you. I look out the
window, wondering if this is what people call love. Who knows; it may just be a
moment; a fleeting moment of warmth. I find my way into your lap, you make
space almost expecting me there. One hand holds the book, the other finds its
way into my hair. You say, like you were ordering a cup of coffee at a busy
restaurant, “We should go to the beach soon. I like how your hair feels when we
are at the beach.” So casually, still reading, it never has the intensity it
should. Your body feels like I could stay there forever. As I wait for the
rains, watching the world go by, I fall asleep and wake up to you still
reading; as I look up, you put the book away and kiss me.
I know this kiss; I know this means you are not letting me fall
asleep again.
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