over night

you wake up

with the taste of last night in your mouth.

the salt of love,

the spice

of lust.

the overindulgence

of her body.

she's asleep,

in dream. but not far.

not too far

that you aren't imagining

things.

this is real.

you can smell her soul.

her skin.

the perfume on the pillow.

you could

wake her if you chose to do so.

you could reach over

and touch her arm,

or whisper into her ear

that you're leaving now,

but that would ruin everything

it's better this way.

to slip out.

to glide back into your life

without her

and see what happens next.