read something new to him.

so last night i read something new to him on top of a commercial white comforter and king size pillows.

there's something comforting about warm eyes staring at you when the world outside is frigid.

we put a lock on the door and stripped down to our souls hoping they'd be enough.
we crack the window to let gusts of air in, hoping the goose down white comforter would be enough - and it was.

i closed my eyes and wished for a brick accent wall while he talked about the dog we'd one day get and the size of the tv we'd have to put in the living room for when guest came over.

i opened my eyes.
and although the accent wall had not come in with the dropping temperature, i was still in love with what remained.

his legs found mine under the comforter.
and they became pretzel dough, attempting to bake int he heat our bodies created.

"read me something."

"read you what? wanna hear my favorite nikki giovanni poem?"

"no. i want to hear something you wrote."

i grabbed the smallest moleskin journal from the bedside bookshelf without once removing my legs from his.

and i began.

in poetry i explained to him the need for us to love one another.
i told him about the comfort americans find in men holding guns but not holding hands.
he nodded his head, but kept his eyes on the hairs of his folded arms resting under his chin.
i told him: "i sometimes cannot take the distance so i walk a few miles to lessen it."

he smiled.

and i kept reading.

between the smiles i could feel his pulse against my calves.
between the blinks i could feel his fingertips glide the curves of my ears.

between the beginning of the poem and the end i could feel our souls creating curves and lumpy parts in the mattress.

i folded the book and stood.

i told him:

let us remove the flannel sheets from the bed and replace them with linen.
let us throw out the king and replace it with a twin.
now we have no other option than to sleep close and warm through winter...
but for autumn let us trick off without titles while the leaves act as pillows.

i stood in the window against the coldness
and read him my favorite nikki giovanni...
in a whisper.