Woke

Love, pretty things, soulfood, your body

This morning I woke up next to you over and over. I fell back asleep each time just long enough to lose track of reality, rustle, stir, and then find you on the other side of my eyelids, again. Letting the sensations of our bodies interlaced flood me each time.

You said the night before, our bodies are perfect for each other. I’m a four LEGO and you’re a three. Counterparts. Intuitive contortions. Harmony.

When I was finally serious about getting out of bed two hours later, and only because I absolutely had to, you said, “I’m probably not going to see you for a couple of days”. And then you kissed me all over. All of the silly parts, my armpit, my elbow, my ribs, my right knee cap, and all of the places in between. I squirmed, smiling so hard it hurt. You are pure delight.

Right before I left, we were standing in your kitchen, I’m pressed heavy into your chest. It is the most solid and reassuring place just I have visited in some time. I’m not sure if it was just the sensation of pure trust, a deep knowing that neither of us are going anywhere, or if it was just the way the light danced all around you, but, in that moment and in every moment since I have simply known that you are home.

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