Ten Minutes To Midnight

It’s ten minutes to midnight and you just went to bed, but I’m left lingering in my chair for a short while after.  Your scent is holding just under my nose and on my fingers and absolutely on my lips.  Along with your taste.

I could have went to bed with you.  Your arm was stretched out and holding mine as you tugged lightly and let my hand slip through your fingers.  Instead I shook my head and waved you off.

“In a minute,” I said.

You shrugged with a smile and headed on without me.  Your body swayed and your hips shook until you faded into the darkness and left me with my thoughts.

Those thoughts were part of why I couldn’t go with you.  Not yet.  I wanted to savor the feeling.  The experience of you.  Those thoughts were going to be scorched into my memory while my body was too weak to move.

I don’t know how you got up so steadily.  Maybe you collapsed on the bed in a heap once you made it, but I couldn’t even fake it for that long.  You know how to take me apart and leave me in pieces.  My hands are too shaky to put myself back together right away, I need a minute.  You’re masterful at making me need to recover.

I’ll be in there soon.  I’ll be in there with you.  I may even find a surge and try to do further damage to your skin with my teeth and nails.  Knock your bones off of their joints and make you walk funny just for me.  You’ve already done it my way plenty of times.

It’s now three minutes to midnight.  I’ve sat long enough.  I want to turn today into tomorrow against you.

 

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