Morning.
     Or is it the other?

I turn my head
     seeing
          a beautiful mouth
          parted delicately in a sleep filled
          grin.
Oh how dreams shape
our faces
     without control.
          Soft cheeks chisel the pattern
          of his bones
          Eyes close the light out
     His chest heaves gently
     under his breath.
I move my body along his
     hoping motion will awaken --
          wanting something.
He moves
back towards me
arm reaching for his clock.

“What time do you work?
     “One,” I answer in a gentle voice
          The raucous silence of the
          box fan in the window
steals him away
     back to sleep.

Consciously uncomfortable
          again
     I dress and leave the room.
Two hours before I must depart,
     I take a shower.
          Warmth washing away
          doubt and insecurity.
It’s quiet without the crew
all alone in a
          stranger’s house.
there’s nothing for me
     while the beauty
          slumbers in
          his distant emotions

     Dried and dressed
     seated on the love seat
          I wait in earnest hope.
An hour descends
          waiting is fruitless.
     I go to say goodbye...

Crawling onto the bed
     effortlessly keeping it stilled
I kiss his cheek.
“I have to go.”

He rolls onto his back
     exposing his soft chest
     and smiles through his
          tiredness.
          Genuine happiness with
          a spark of infatuation
               perhaps.
“Oh, ok... Have a good day.”
“I will.”
We kiss quickly.
     gently on the lips
          almost emotionlessly.
“Sleep,” I say
          He turns back over
          and drifts away as I
          shut the door.

I leave.
         And leave behind nothing
Torn under a morning sky.
     Or is it the other?