Windkisser II

The first night you stayed, March wind was blowing warm through the windows. As night crept past our sleeping forms, the thunderstorm grew, and the sound of dripping rain and a train too close on the rails woke me. I turned toward you, softly, so as not to wake you, and the train seemed to go on forever. I rose and blew out the candles, practically gutted in their sockets. I closed the window and dropped the shade to keep the approaching morning light from your eyes. Later, you would tell me you liked my tattoo, although I couldn’t remember you getting that close to my hip. Then you tell me you watched as I moved around the room, before I secluded my naked form in darkness, before I blew the candles out, before I dropped the shade. I wonder if you watched me as I slept.