In the summer heat, I unstick my breasts to your back. The sound makes me choke down a laugh but you breathe on, unchanged.
Am I waiting for you to reach for me?
I don’t take it personally.
Sliding out from under the sheets, the hardwood creaks slightly under my feet. Nothing disturbs you now. Still, I make myself quiet as I relieve myself and search for some feline companionship in the early hours.
Trying to define these past few months doesn’t come effortlessly. Am I taking adequate breaks? Am I hydrated enough for this undertaking? I worry my falsified prerequisites will soon be laid bare for all to see.














