I find him splayed across my living room couch
Like a rag doll left out from play
Dozing away the hot summer afternoon
The sunlight drifts through the window, half asleep too
I walk up to him slowly; run my fingers through his hair
Afraid of waking him, but giving into my guilty pleasure
It reminds me of golden silk or ripe wheat in the wind
His eyelids flicker, lashes dancing, but he does not wake
I long to lean forward and press my lips to his
To know the taste of his awaiting kiss
But sadly these secrets are not mine to know
So innocent he seems in sleep
I wonder if he knows my feelings for him
It is doubtful, as I do not know myself
I linger a moment longer and bend a little closer
I crave what he is and what he can give to me
But instead a lean back and listen to his heartbeat

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