lie

what do you want
to do now,
he asked.
i’m not sure,
i said.
there’s a bed.
we could lie on it
together.
just lie there?
nothing else?
yes.
if that’s alright.
i just want you
to lie with me
and lie to me that you don’t
want to do anything else
either.
i just need to lie here
with you
and feel seconds
pass by
not counted in
kisses,
moans (yours),
or thrusts,
but by your calm breath,
slow and
safe,
by the impatient shifts
of your body
on this old mattress,
the hum of your heart,
and the stillness
of temporary
companionship.
then you can ask me again
what i want to do now.
and i’ll lie
for you
in return.