Bake the cake and eat it.

Too much to ask, is it?
To want to know
How he looks when
He concentrates,
He scribbles,
He sleeps,

What does he do
While deciding what to wear
Or what to order as dinner.

Too much to ask, I know.
To want to know
How he sighs,
Yawns, smirks,
Dances, dreams.
Drives.

How he moves when he
Holds a pen,
Holds my hand (?)
Holds the door open,
Holds me when I fall (?)
Holds a puppy,
Holds me.

All I want is

A touch.
The whiff of perfume.
His feet around mine
Under the table,
Or even on the bed.
..on the unmade bed.

A whisper.
Two words.
The feel of his silk tie
Around my wrists,
Or against my feet.
..my quivering feet.

Too much to ask,  too fucking much.

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2 thoughts on “Bake the cake and eat it.

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