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I open my eyes after fighting to wake up. The first thing I see is you looking at me. Your green eyes twinkling with mischief or intention. I don’t know which because I am not awake enough yet to process or analyse it. I smile. It’s the only thing I can do, because I know my voice is unsteady in the morning. I see your hand reaching out for me, pushing a lock of my auburn hair out of my face. I refuse to overthink my puffy face and messy hair. It’s not the first time you see them. You move closer. And closer. Until our bodies touch. “I am glad you are here,” you say. Your voice is gravely from the sleep you probably didn’t have. You are an insomniac. I was too for a long time, but since we started sharing a bed, I am not anymore. I feel safe in your presence. Safe enough to let go, to trust you and to sleep. I am afraid that my snoring will turn into the backdrop of one of your songs one day. But you wouldn’t do that. I push the silly thought back to where it came from. Love and light shine from your eyes as you simply look at me, and I feel home. It is, as if we need to be together to be able to live and breathe and be safe. A heavy thought on an early morning. Before I can think more, you run a finger over my frown and move in to kiss me. I immediately forget what I was thinking about. And it doesn’t matter. I am here. In this moment. With you.

❤️💜🤍🖤💚💛💙🤎🧡

7 minutes, 282 words