Dreaming of you

Your voice is soft, but with an earnest tone, like that of a surgeon reporting failed procedures and impending death.

Please, come back to bed, you say and brush away the sheets, exposing, once again, the roundness of your breasts and your smooth golden skin. The intriguing darkness between your thighs.

I start toward the bed – you close your eyes, thus allowing me to keep on looking.

Kissing your shoulder and neck, I register the faint scent of wild flowers; hear the quickening of your breath.

However, as I lean in to place my lips on yours, you’re gone.