Your body is a flyover above mine.
It is hard to look up.
I am the land,
and you are the lease owner.
So cautious about my breathing,
my diaphragm drops and so does my heart,
to the rhythm of yours.
Sudden, swift, your hands cupping my face,
and I don't know how I got there-
how I got you.
All I know is the pick up of pace
and the deflating-balloon feeling
when you squeeze my elbows,
then walk away,
in all your cocky glory,
or tumble through hotel beds or
have your index lift up my chin–

and I think I know them all too well.

© lilac_of_hope