Saturnalia

I crawled out of bed after you left,

still bathed in your salty warmth.

Tangled in the sheets I found

your t-shirt and slipped it on,

the scent of your skin trapped in the cotton.

In the bathroom you left a heart

in the steam on the mirror.

I thought about last night, the way

you laughed at me as I nuzzled your neck,

fumbling with your jeans. Your dark,

curly hair smelled of the greenest grass

after a summer storm and I

got lost in its fragrant moisture.

You left a violet mark

at the hollow of my throat and

I laughed at the indulgence of it.

Your sable eyes and creamy, olive skin

fill my mind’s eye and I wait

with shivery anticipation for your return.