The eleventh poem from my poetry collection Conception.

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Night-time

During the day I am everyone’s:
the night is ours alone.
I watch you sleep;
sometimes serenely
– shallow breaths rippling your whole chest;
sometimes fitfully
– possessed by a pain I cannot see.
When you awake, crying,
I try, half-conscious, to comfort you,
relishing secret kisses
unseen by jealous eyes.
I stroke your round face and hair
(soft and fluffy as a brown baby chick),
waiting for your eyes to still:
those dark chocolate blue eyes
– black holes for me to fall through.
Then, if all else fails,
I offer you my breast,
and, when you feed,
the touch of your greedy mouth
is softer than my lover’s caress.