I crawl in beside him
he smells like monkey bars
and bathwater.
He says e-i-e-i-o
in his sleep
and I laugh out loud
in the dark.
I press my face
against his back,
his heart thuds gently
like a moth
in the cup of my hand.
I can’t think of anything smoother
than his skin
except maybe the ocean
last weekend.
It was the first time I’d swam that far
since having him.
I dove under its peel
feeling guilty
and free.