Bed

Bed

I slept on the papyrus of your chest,
unafraid, and navigated
that testosterone trail of dark hair,
contrast to your light,
free of fear,
that stomach,
the leaned, left thigh -
soft fingers, laced on fingers,
pressed against cotton -
Sun blew her ghost
through the ruffled curtain pleat,
and we fumbled underneath words,
beyond rational thought,
beneath the natural merging
of hope and an ideal
we went on,
made sighed out promises,
traded elements of ourselves
replaced by something primal,
compulsory,
shared things we learnt
when alone
or adrift.