I'm Fine

Unconscious

Bliss
is the only word I can use
to describe you.

The tangled sheets are a nuisance,
the ceiling fan is an annoyance,
and the air is bitterly cold.

But there's warmth.

Your breath fans out across my cheek,
your hands rest gently at my hips,
your front protects my back,
and suddenly
I don't mind the
insomnias.

Your chest rises and falls slowly,
the deep hum of sleep escaping
your parted lips.

Lips still swollen,
just a little.

It's easy not to disturb you,
simple almost,
as the sheets become more or less tangled.

How can I tell?

A red-eyed gaze travels
your neck.
A red-eyed gaze traces
your face.

Studying.
Learning every arch,
curve,
and crevice of
you.
Committing it all to memory.

Bliss.
Simple as that.

Pale hands cup
your cheeks.
Slender fingers brush
your eyelids.
One thought
left hanging as still swollen lips
kiss back
your curls.

May Sandman never betray
you
as he has
me.

My love, I hate to leave so soon,
but bliss is only
something found in
dreams.

It's about time I wake.