We lay together

We lay together my arms wrapped around you until daylight; you sleeping, my hands cupping your breasts, you holding them there where you had drawn them, your breath coming in soft almost snores. Me, half asleep, drifting twixt dreams and the warmth of you. Your skin set fires burning in me where we touched, fires which glowed charcoal bright with your being, fires which glowed deep into my sleep, deep into my half waking, deep into the first light that showed faintly around the shutters; deep inside me, warming to the centre of my being, so I was not me, but me and you and us all in the same boundaryless glow of warmth. A warmth of being, of man and humankind, and woman crooked in the bend of my body and my double wanting of you - sweet agony that was such bliss of the us-ness that I would have not have cared if we had hung for ever just on the cusp of the moment between sleep and love-making and the cries of our coming and the soft drifts of setting aftermath awash with the echoes of our still pulsing union. To make love, to half sleep, to almost dream, to lie tight wrapped one with the other, to be suspended both in the now of half conscious half dream sleep drift silk oblivion of night, and yet not any but all of these in the same slow pulsing moments. Here, not here, you, I, we, us, sleep, love, burning flesh touch, desires - dreams dark envelope fading into light; drift of no time in each whispered breath suspended in one package of double being - you and I and us and sleep and not sleep and dark and coming light and the love that we did not make, but made so deeply in being boundaryless, suspended in that no-man’s no-woman’s land of neither sleep nor wake.