My Actions Are Not My Own

My body moves up and down but not of its own accord.

I lay my head on his chest like he was my bed and board.

I do not feel my own breathing as I concentrate on his.

All I know is there is nothing as reassuring as this.

His breath made sure the dandelions in me were blown.

My actions are not my own.

My heart goes in and out but I can not feel the beat.

I wrap my hand around his wrist and the rhythm is so sweet.

I do not notice my own pulse even though it must be there.

All I know is that his own tempo sings through the air.

His heartbeat makes sure my life support is known.

My actions are not my own.

My eyes turn back and forth but I am not seeing.

I focus their direction on his strengthened being.

I do not register any detail of his beautiful form.

All I know is that when I catch his eye it keeps me warm.

His watchful gaze over me is obviously shown.

My actions are not my own.

My hands reach out but I will not touch.

I trace his features to soothe his blush.

I do not rub with a roughened massage.

All I know is I sometimes forget he is not a mirage.

His gentle hold around me assures me I'm not alone.

My actions are not my own.