Songs While Sleeping
He wrote her songs while she slept. His simple melody, her protection from the cold. He sang her words that her spirit drank like water, and some made her dance like wine. He wrote her songs with her head buried in her hands, lost in indecision about the climate and where to move come fall. He listened as she mumbled about colder weather and thicker blankets; he smiled and tucked his words in her hair behind her ear.
She felt his mouth on hers while she slept, it felt like a whisper, a prayer. It spoke of midnight skies and the taste of something bitter, and the words bled into ink. She felt his skin move over hers, waves across the water. Salt on her tongue. She dreamt of his song and the sound of gunfire in the distance, and around him she built a barricade from the world.
