Animal Heat - Feb 10 2022

 

Animal Heat

Feb 10 2022

Cold feet.

Bad breath.

Toenails left

untrimmed.

But now, except for the dogs

I'm alone in bed.

No need for diplomacy

biting my tongue.

Turning to face the wall.

Proposing separate beds

rooms

places.

Although they say that opposites attract

love conquers all.

That cold feet

mean a warm heart.

And hands, as well.

I'd flinch from the cold

as she placed them flat against my skin

to warm,

pressing gently, fingers spread.

Then slipped her arms around me

and held me close;

the touch I craved

now crave even more.

We'd slip into sleep that way

and awaken restored,

nesting

like two spoons in a drawer.

She liked being the big one

me, the little,

curve on curve

until morning came.

Or we were punctuation,

the quotation marks that nestle together

to begin a sentence

as well as end it.

Except the sentence was missing;

because why use words

when we didn't need to speak

to be perfectly understood.

But that was before.

Now I sleep in thick wool socks,

and the heat of the dogs

is more than enough.

Although they tend to be restless

and are up with the sun;

I sleep better when they're gone.

The luxury

of a bed to myself,

no hogging the comforter

monopolizing sheets.

But my dreams are fitful,

and even though I linger

for far too long

I never feel rested

when I get up.

I miss her warm hands

and thick wool socks.

Her animal heat

against my body

all night long.