Lets remember that I saw him four years younger, thick and smooth as a sweet teen jock, standing in a small breeze on Mississippi. I didn't know it then that he was on a protein binge and boot camp regimen, all I saw was a young wolf in the courtyard with the sun in his eyes which is maybe why he never saw me.
And I stood there like a dumb girl, just still so as not to spook him, and he hopped a curb and onto the ledge of a garden and turned towards something he wasn't able to see, and in that fluid movement I thought all sorts of things, the loudest of which was that he was for me more than anything I had ever seen.
Lets just remember that now as I am caught in the curling soft brown of his hair. And while he sleeps and his body runs its last muscle executions before surrendering, the pleasing angles of his face in the glow from just outside. How I try to sleep but can't if I can see him at all, instead I creep across him, arms and legs and hands and kisses and listening to his low wolf sounds, I break against him like the tide, seething with wonder into the corner shadows of his sweet mouth,I steal his breath and guess at what he's dreaming. And in the morning, he has somehow found me first, he bites my shoulders and gives me low wolf growls, tells me I'm tiny and swallows me up, and the wolf belongs to me.
