First Draft
Do you feel my lips pressed against your shirt,
while fingertips search the sheets for your neck?
How I breathe, comfort lingering in your scent,
tracing thoughts of you with each slower breath?
I miss your touch for fears of future work,
someday pulsing lovers' hope through my breast?
Oneday might sleep a loving week with you,
relaxed sighs rising fall against your chest?
And a desperate month apart, I wonder;
do you press back?
while fingertips search the sheets for your neck?
How I breathe, comfort lingering in your scent,
tracing thoughts of you with each slower breath?
I miss your touch for fears of future work,
someday pulsing lovers' hope through my breast?
Oneday might sleep a loving week with you,
relaxed sighs rising fall against your chest?
And a desperate month apart, I wonder;
do you press back?