Lovers and Dreamers

My bed is too big for one person, too small for two, but it’s always my room we migrate to. You love it, because we have to sleep pressed up against each other, close and warm. I’m a restless sleeper, tossing and turning and flailing limbs in the night, but in the circle of your arms I sleep like a log, peaceful and still.

I always wake first. Watching you sleep in the dim morning light, hair a mess, arm tossed across my legs because I’ve slipped out of your grip to sit up against the wall, it’s like a miracle each and every time. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, never have and maybe never will. You’re a galaxy laid out in my bed and it’s overwhelming sometimes.

You take forever to wake. You curl in closer, mumble incoherently beneath your breath, and doze until you can’t doze anymore. Then you open your eyes, bleary and unfocused, and give me the sleepiest, dopiest, happiest fucking grin I’ve ever seen anyone give anything, as though I’m your everything, and it makes my breath catch and my heart skip a beat no matter how many times I see it.

I think you’re too good for me, but I’ll cling to you until my dying breath.