Light.
Lighter than breath.
Lighter than the whisper of a breeze.
Fingers tracing phantom paths,
Dancing across your shoulders,
And down.
Arms resting in a lazy hug,
Head tilted to read the screen,
Over your shoulder.
Whispered words grazing your neck.
Soft smiles, felt instead of seen.
A hand points,
Ferreting out mistakes.
Then traces it’s path back up your neck,
To rest, sheltered at the nape,
Kneading cat-like.
A laugh,
Sly and knowing,
At improbable events, static dialog.
Paper actors on a digital stage.
“Why not just act it out?” is whispered,
Echoing that shameless seductive smile.
And so you do.
Lines that fell like marching footsteps,
Spin freely,
With editing and innuendo.
Actions a thousand times louder than words,
Whisper in the darkness.
Just when the story begins to fall into place…
It shatters, snapping you awake,
To realize you’ve typed a page of \’s,
In your sleep.