You were here…

I sit with a pen and paper so I can write about you tonight. So that before my memory fails me I can immortalize in words, every nuance of yours, I can capture on paper every breath, every look, every smile that was ever thrown at me. And so I write and write, I write till my eyes become weary and my hand tires and I drift off to sleep.

And then suddenly, I hear footsteps and I open my eyes and I see you, right here next to me. You are here because I left the door open you say. I think you are right. You sit next to me and smooth the hair away from my face. You lean in and kiss my forehead and your slightly chapped lips brand me. And your warm breath weaves itself in my hair. I sit up and start to tell you that I was writing about you, but I choke and you pull me close to you and give me one of those hugs and say ‘shush’ and rub my back. I know I am melting. I know I shouldn’t. But you are here and that’s all that matters. I lean into you and I can hear your heartbeat. A strong reassuring thud..thud..thud..

I sigh and look at your face. I switch on my bedside lamp so I can see those brown eyes clearly. You reach out to switch of the light but I put my hand on top of yours and now I can’t seem to pull it away. So I try and distract myself and start talking. It always always works. And you listen. Just like always. You listen to my day, you listen to my dreams. You question, you nod, you understand. I can see your eyes shining with mischief at the various silly things I’ve done. I see your lips, those beautiful full, soft lips, the only kind that men should have, thin into a line when I tell you how much I cried because I was sad a while back. That look is enough to tell me that you will always wipe my pain away and you will always know I am in pain. Blame it on the fact that I always tell you everything whether you ask or not. Sometimes it makes me feel maybe you are just way too informed about me. And I talk some more.

And then you lean in and kiss me and I know I have to kiss you back. And I do. And then everything else is just a rhythm. A slow soft melody which bounces off the planes of your body and reaches into the depths of mine. A while later, I rest my head on your chest and listen to you breathing. And that seems to bring me sleep. It’s a lullaby to my tired senses and exhausting emotions. I sleep in your arms and hold you tight because I already want you to read what I wrote about you in the morning.

I get up in the morning with the sunlight flooding my room. The paper untouched next to me and I blink and  I know I don’t have to write a word about you. I will always be able to dream you into existence. Always.

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