Sleeping On The Couch

We keep shifting our limbs, our heads, our entireties
Here under the blankets
On the couch
A narrow space that our two prone bodies take up completely
Did I say prone?
That would mean no movement
We are most certainly moving
All through the night
A psychedelic dance of not-remembered partners' movements
Two minds in rest responding to the Other's
We never remember all the steps we took to wind up this way
In the "morning"
We are somewhat sweaty
Everytime
I like, I long
For the slickness that you can produce so effortlessly
To my senses everything you do is effortless
Perhaps I am jealous after all
Perhaps that strange feeling is what awe and wonder of One's partner feels like
Your head nestles itself between my shoulder and my jaw
You are cooing
Dove-like
With the exhales of the next four breaths
Softer every time
Your right leg is over my left thigh and curled around
My heart has gotten accustomed to pumping more blood to my right arm
There is warmth between us and around us
And the smell of us, our pairing
This is my last thought as I drift away
Ah! Not quite
It is that I love you,
And that I want to be there when you wake