Quiet Conversation

You are never farfrom my extremities.On our bedlimbs journey towards you,toes rubbing againstthe warmth of your legsnudging at flesh,kneading through muscles,digging for the promiseof magnetism.Hands stretchfor assurance inbridging the distancebetween here and there.You allow for it,enticed by the hungerof a give-and-take affectionas we silently converse.Whenever I get lostin a book or movieI find your fingersstudiously reaching,magically appearingunder mountains of blanketsfor more lovebetween the quietudethat defines the comfort of us.And in one momentyou take my handgently placingthat last kiss of nighton the palm of my skinto remind meof the thingsI don’t have to say.