xiii. you go to my head

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"you intoxicate my soul with your eyes"

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"you intoxicate my soul with your eyes"

i listen for strider's barks at the back of the house. under the blankets with little light streaming in, i'm caught halfway between consciousness and sleep. all drifts over me as if i'm a pebble in a fast-flowing stream.

every morning, you wake before me to groom the horse and feed the animals. you're up as the sun rises and the sky is a slow blue. sometimes i can hear you from the bedroom window, calling for hefin. strider will come after you and the two of you will find the horse together and give him his hay.

pwyll the goat follows after, trotting like a rabbit behind you in the grass. you look like an ancient king by the time you come back to the house: hair alight with the golden glow of morning and strider flopping happily at your side. i toss in bed at the image.

groping the space where you once were, i let my mind wander west. back to bron-yr-aur where the mist and sunlight made us romantics. where you wrote me poetry and mouthed words into my skin.

i hear the front door open and close with your arrival and listen to your footsteps. you're heading for the kitchen because you've turned left from the bedroom and your pace has slowed. you're making me breakfast, as you always do when you've left me sore the night before. 

the kettle squeals from the stovetop but you're quick to pull it off. my mouth waters with the imagined taste of my favorite apple and cranberry tea. pans clash and enter the sink, until finally the sound of you draws closer, padding across the floor to our bedroom. the door squeaks when you push it open.

"good morning," you say. "i know you're awake."

somehow you always tune in on it. i rise up with a sigh and finally notice you. just as i pictured, your curls cascade past your shoulders. the hair on your face obscures your chin, but i know i'll kiss you there, rub my cheek against yours to feel the prickle. in your hands is a breakfast tray topped with toast and fruit and honey. my mug of tea sits next to the plates.

"love," i breathe and smile. i take the tray from you and you crawl across the bed to the other side, where you can hang against me. "thank you."

"of course. . . how do you feel?" your fingers travel across the swell of my bare shoulder.

"i'm alright," but my muscles protest as i pull myself up through the ache. "just a little weak."

you take your plate from the tray and scarf down a handful of berries. "it was good, though?" there's a grin in your voice that leaves me fluttery.

"always," i tell you around a laugh. "let's do it different next time, though. i can't stay on top for long." i sip at the hot tea and savor the falling warmth in my belly. i try the honeyed toast next and swipe crumbs from my lap.

your face rests against my arm. you lower a testing hand beneath the bedsheets where you reach my naked skin. "next time, hmm?"

i remove your touch from my thigh. "after i've eaten!"

"oh, alright." you fall back. "i'm sorta obsessed with you, is all."

"i'm obsessed with you, too. thank you again for breakfast." i pause, staring at the water in the glass you've brought me. "i haven't told you, but i always wake up when you leave the bed in the morning."

concern washes your face suddenly. "i try to be quiet. i'm sorry."

"no, no," i mumble quickly. "i meant i like it. i get to listen to you while you work . . . you know, i could always come out to help you."

you shake your head and hold up your hand. around a mouthful of scone, you deny my offer. "i like taking care of it all. it's . . . how i like it to be."

"you're sure?"

"sure." you nod. you rub your face against my forearm and your beard scratches me.

the room turns quiet save the chirping of birds outside of our window. thrushes sometimes and little squat robins.

strider lopes into our room. he has a wide smile on his face as he greets us.

"where were you?" i lean down and fluff his mottled fur.

"probably bothering hefin," you say. you call his name and he walks around to you. "you like to bug him, don't you?" your voice turns babyish and i smile into my tea.

if i could stay here like this with you forever, solitary, just us and our animals, i think i'd be happy. no more tours or recording without rest. we'd invite our friends to dinner every once in a while. you'd make your curry and i'd wash the dishes. we could be lazy. we could rest against one another when we feel tired.

i watch, foggied with want, as you offer strider a sausage link from your plate. it gives me a grin to see the two of you. i recline in my comfort.

( for Lovelyritarose
I got carried away! )

lover's moon ★ robert plant imaginesWhere stories live. Discover now