Stretch

(Muddy shoes on the porch,
plates stacked by the sink, the oven still a touch warm)

If you breathe in
– you're on her bed, stretched out, tired –
if you breathe in, it's undeniably her
she's in the air, sorta

Your skin remembers, too
you could trace the moves she ran across your arms
your chest, like ley lines
and what could be a perfect indent
where she's tucked herself into your arms
until she's close in
so you can barely breathe out

in the best possible way

And with the lights low
she's staring right back at you
staring right back at her
lights low, air warm

and a smile that you
yeah
you could love that smile

but, you think too much.
you do
so, when she drops to the bed
scrambles up
with that smile

it's time to let that head of yours go
and really, honestly, breathe in

(the oven has cooled, and you should go
but she pulls you back to bed)

to her.