.even machines have hearts

You make it so easy to feel like home, even though it’s not our home but yours. I enjoy the quiet of the mornings as we wake up to the sunlight bathing the room. The way you tangle your limbs with mine so I have to pry them apart to run to the bathroom, eager to return to the warm bed and your warmer body. Your skin is so soft under my fingertips but I can feel your muscles dance whenever I apply pressure. I love have solid you are, how strong you feel, how safe I feel. Your mouth finds its way to mine, sometimes and I melt into the kiss from your sweet lips. I’m in love again, in a daze again, so amazed again until I remember you aren’t really mine. We are in the kitchen and you sing along to the tiny voice on your speakerphone. You smile at me, half naked, bronzed and beautiful, the shorts riding low on your hips as you whip up breakfast, lunch or dinner. I am enthralled by you, as in between tasting the sauce, your eyes, then your lips meet mine. It’s not really real I try to remind myself but I melt into your lips, your hands sliding down my hips and between my thighs and I wonder, why can’t you simply say you’re mine?