"The Snuggle," A Poetry Post for Lovers

When you snuggle
up against your man
on a hot summer night,
the humidity of the
experience clings to your
skin and
wets down your sexy lingerie
so that it
sticks to you
like toilet paper
that you pick up
on the way
out of the bathroom
when you are
rushing off to work on
a
Monday.

Even if the
air is turned down
way way low,
so low that you have to
get the winter cover
and
wrap your free leg up
in it to
keep the chill off,
it still gets
too hot
curled up
next to your
good thing.

At some point
you start
praying that he
won't be offended if you
inch back to your
side and
breathe some
cool air
for a
few minutes.

And God forbid he
fall asleep with
one arm
wrapped all the way
around cause then you
have to lift up that arm,
creep off and
change your whole
outfit to get that
puddle of sweat
dried up from
under your arms and
around your rib cage.

You remember
all the movies you saw about
couples falling asleep in
perfect spoons and wonder
whether any woman in her
right mind still believes she can
sleep all night locked up under the
drool and deep snores of her
soul mate without having to
get up and recompose herself.

And after a few years,
maybe,
you are so glad that
with time
you both learn to
stay on your own sides
sometimes.

Staying on your
own side
sometimes.

That's romantic.

-T. D. James-Moss