Monday, June 17, 2019


in the middle of the night, i put out my hand, and I feel her there beside me.
she is warm, and i move my hand down the softness of her hips to her legs, curled up, like a child beside me, reminding me how she is sometimes a perfect child, and how she can bring me back to that place too, laughing in the sunshine about the silly little things that are clean, and pure.
but she is a woman, grown, and i know this too. strong, brilliant, and resolved. whole and complete, perfect as she was as a child, but wiser, better at it. sometimes more tired, same as me;
this place can be ... tiring.
in the morning she wakes up, and i can feel her eyes open in my head. she's looking at her phone, watching things, reading things, thinking about what the day will bring. i keep my eyes closed, leaving her to her self. she doesn't need me. she just likes me, loves me for some reason.

i think about that, and when it's time, ask if she's ready for coffee.

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