on arms

hips

from being pulled into bed

with the words

“baby, I’ve been waiting for this.”

Bruises

from being pressed, pulled.

They’re forming slowly,

pooling while he snores,

while the coyotes outside

talk to each other about

what they saw

through the window.

I howled to them,

but they couldn’t help me.

he said.

Where are you leading me to,

I replied.

Oh, but what I should have said is

Lead me where ever you want,

as long as we end up in bed.

Lead me to still waters

and night skies

punctuated with stars and

glowing cigarette butts.

Lead me into a book you love

with words I can remember

with a plot I can enjoy

later

after we go our separate ways.