Coming Home

As night falls, each day
I see you in a different light
Tired from your broken-assed job
And your stop-gap commute
You rub the back of your neck
And smile at me,
It’s okay

You sip your red wine
at dinner and like a gentleman ask
if I enjoyed my afternoon
And you tip your glass
and nod as your eyes drop
to the buttons nesting just there
And smile at me,
Shall we?

Falling all around you
Your smile, the night,
You prop me up
and we touch and turn
And I see no vulnerability then
Not the rubbing of your neck
Nor the tired look that
weighs upon you

Your power; the silk-covered
marble-like hardness of your
arms that lift and manipulate
my will until,
I know not where I end
and you begin.

Chastise me with you wordless growl
Graze me with your fingertips
Breathe your wine-enduced
last-thrust vitality, with which
you end your day
upon me.
Let me be your chalice.
Come home, to me.

9 thoughts on “Coming Home

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