Before I go to bed at night

I wish that it was you I was lying next to. I fantasise that I'd roll over, sleepily, and it would be your chest that I'd find to lie on. We'd fit together perfectly, with my head in the nook of your shoulder and you'd slowly begin to touch the nape of my neck, or maybe my hair. I'd stroke your neck and the side of your face, between the sideburn and the skin whilst we talked of esoteric things. The other noise would be the wind from the open window rushing over this silence when we sleep.

I would have taken off your jacket earlier, like a housewife, and laid on your shoulder to nibble on your ear, then you would take my hand and kiss it before we slowly undressed...

But there are no insects through the window, and no sweat or disgusting elements that I know would creep into this vision, and that is why it's a dream, and only a dream.

You might not desire me at all.

And I am sabotaging it before I've even begun to think of fulfilling it.

I'd love to know what's under that jacket you always wear, or why you've got medical cream, and why you sometimes touch me with your foot. Do you feel the same for me as I do for you, is that why you chose the end scene, just so that you could hold my hand, or was I imagining that little extra pressure? Have you got too many problems for me to deal with, or could I deal with them? Are you sometimes silent with me because you are sickened by me, or bored by me, or because we are well known to each other and we don't need to have any hairdresser talk between us? Have you got similar questions for me? Do you sometimes worry that you hate me? Are you truly and utterly confident about this play?

Your hands are so soft and you always smell beautiful.