the weight

the weight of your arm snug around my neck when you sleep. if i'm awake and wondering if you are i know better than to ask outright - the smell of the leather leash next to my head reminds me where i am tonight. even if i push my body closer to yours i can't tell if you are awake, your arm tightens down either way, as if even in your sleep you confirm where i am.

you are sudden in the night sometimes, a different kind of reminder. you pull me from deep asleep into a tiny space that only belongs to you, and to the words that define us - the hurt, the force, the weight of it. you make me tell you what i think about, describe it in lurid detail, the graphic motions and sounds of skin. sometimes i think about the weight of your limbs, and just that makes me catch my breath.