Shoot it if it rhymes

Tryst

I have this way, a strange way

Of taking you to sleep with me.

I will gather you as a little

Bubble of air,

A wisp of a thought

And breathe you in

Till you reach my lungs

And dissolve.

Then I lie down, stretch,

And let you breathe with me.

You stay the whole night

As I sleep and dream

And turn and toss.

Some mornings, I find

You are still here.