I’m in that place, on the cusp of sleep, or nearly awake. Not sure which one.

“Threshold baby, the liminal state ‘twixt sleeping and waking.”

I smile at the sound of his voice. Now I know I’m asleep.

“Miss you,” I whisper.

I wish I felt his hand stroke my hair.

I wish I felt his lips on my neck.

But I don’t. I’m awake and alone. Three in the morning.

Wishing.

Dreaming.

He whispers: remember the time
I say: we already used that line
He says: what can you rhyme with luck?
I say: forget it, let’s just fuck
He says: maybe that was my plan
I say: typical man

Hands take over (feel me)
Voices wasted (tell me)
Emotions seep (is this love)
Feelings tasted (this is love)

He whispers: there?
I say: yes
He whispers: more?
I say: yes
He whispers: harder?
I say: yes

I’m in that place, on the cusp of sleep, or nearly awake. Not sure which one.

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