I sleep every night with the same man.
When I drag my body to the bedroom,
stripping off the dusty clothing of the day,
he’s lying, waiting in the dark.
I slide beneath the covers,
stretching all my length along his body,
sweet warmth from his skin stealing over mine,
chilled from sitting too long near a fire needing stoking.
His breath sends welcome shivers
from my shoulders down my spine;
his arms embrace me
like a downy vest of comfort.
We never speak.
Words, though sometimes welcome,
are not necessary for our mingling.
Silence is the order of the night.
Sometimes I crave the luxury of chocolate
melting on my tongue and bring it with me
to the bedroom. He does not partake,
finding what he needs in my mere presence.
We sleep, I and the constant lover.
And when daylight presses harsh fingers into my eyes
I turn and find the constant lover gone,
replaced by all my careless pillows
gloriously heaped behind me.
Upon my looking further there’s a blanket –
softly woven, midnight blue –
tangled in the sultry folds of winter bedding,
slender tail snaking to the outlet buried in the wall.
© 2013 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved
*My imaginary lover."