Last night as you lay sleeping,
a glaze of moonlight outlined
the curves of your body.
I wanted
to cup your breast in my hand,
to feel your nipple grow erect
under the caress of my tongue.
Thinking of running my fingertips
across your navel,
the longing became painful.
I savored it.
I wanted to see the muscles
of your neck and chest
tighten and relax with
involuntary gasps and sighs—
your breasts rebound
to the impact of my strokes.
I wanted to be wet with your fluids,
to fill you with mine,
to hear your shudder of release.

I kissed you softly on the shoulder
and went to sleep.