Morning Would

It’s funny how I fall asleep so hungry for you I feel as though a hundred tacit fingers are teasing and pulling me apart until my body surrenders and becomes a cavern for the unspoken and illicit. Yet when I wake up in the morning, my body feels lithe and stretched, as though you fed me in my dreams, leaving me satisfied and filled so that I almost forget that I even wanted for anything at all. And then the day wears on and my toes curl and my neck cranes and my fingers wander and I am left panting and starving for you again while my lids flutter in anticipation of the night.