treatswords

I love lying diagonally with you.

Rolled up in my pink duvet, your curly chest hair tickling my ear.

The suns legs crawl through the cheap blinds that came with our apartment.

A yellow spider waking us.

It’s hot already.

75 degrees by 6:18 am.

But we don’t mind. We stay threaded together beneath the duvet. Our toes popping out for air, your hairy feet rubbing against the pine tree tattooed on my ankle.

A year ago I let you in.

You saw the pink stain on my sleeve, left from where my heart had been. But you didn’t question where it went or why. You allowed it to stay tucked away in me until I was ready to share it again.

And when I was ready for you to see it, we saw that our round, red beating organs were the same. They were kind, endlessly loving, true romantics with a touch of stubbornness.

You roll over, snapping your glasses open, sliding them onto your delicately round face.

I love watching you take in the morning for the first time. Those thick lenses allowing you to see the wrinkles in the duvet, my stray blonde hair sticking to your beard, my eyelashes fluttering as I awe over you.

I can see myself in your honey eyes as they spread over me.

I see what you see in me.

They say the only way to find yourself, to fall in love with yourself, is to be alone for awhile. But I disagree after finding you.

You sit up, ready to slip out of bed for the day. But I reel you back in.

“Just ten more minutes.” I say.

You sigh, pretending to be annoyed, but I see a smile curl around your beard.

We lie like that, nestled in one another’s nooks, until late afternoon.