Artificial Moonlight

It's a new room, new space, an unfamiliar space. There's an unfamiliar body next to mine. Unfamiliar arms wrapped around me. Unfamiliar stomach against my back. Unfamiliar breath across my ear. Last night was new and unfamiliar.

The sun oozes through the blinds slowly, like cold oil; it looks light moonlight. I realize after a few sleepy blinks that it's morning. It's morning, and I've hardly slept. The light sits softly on my new lover's cheek, like moonlight. But the fresh, gray feeling of the dawn is unmistakable. It's nearly time to wake up, to leave, to end our night and move on.

But the magic of imitation moonlight cradles me. Lingering kisses, lingering touches, small smiles as eyes close and we sink back into the night. Then, buzz of the alarm; the spell breaks. It's well and truly morning. Even though, in this new and unfamiliar room, it's still the midnight of a full moon.