lounging on his bed
pillows and sheets in enticing disarray
speaking of restless nights and entropy
I watch him silently
occasionally
as my body shifts among the fabric
he is, for now, lost in his world
and, one could say, so am I
a TV, voices, somewhere off
the sounds of his subtle movements
his scent, his breathing
I let my thoughts wander, then disappear
into myself, into him
and, my breath heavy with the heat
into the softness, and into nothing
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