Sleepy
It was his favorite time of day.
Lying there with his eyes open in the dark of the morning and staring up at the ceiling of the bedroom, enjoying the quiet before
the day started. He could hear the air conditioning, the birds chattering, the clink of the chain of the dog next door, as well her
breathing.
He liked her being there. He loved her.
There in the dark in bed it was just them, and he could enjoy her before the day took her away. Before schedules and phone
calls, friends and promises, duties and errands and all the other little bits of life that made each day so hectic intervened, he could
lie there and just be happy she was there with him. One of his life’s simple dreams had been to fall asleep each night in the arms of
someone who loved him. And he said a silent prayer every night they crawled under the covers.
Some nights they lay back to back. Others a pair of floating figures shared the bed. This morning they were mildly intertwined,
her head nestled in the crook of neck.
He could feel her hand on his slightly round stomach and suddenly felt embarrassed and self conscious at the little bit of paunch
age was bringing. Her other arm was beneath her somewhere. Her hair smelled like new shampoo. Her thigh as on top of his and
her breath ruffled over his chest as he kept still as to not disturb her, and to enjoy the sometimes simple pleasure of contact.
Dressing for bed was the sleep pants she’d gotten him two years ago, the thick ones and a tee that he suddenly remembered
she’d gotten him as well. She slept in a pair of boxers and an old tee of his with Las Vegas on the front. She liked it cooler at night
so he dressed warmly.
He realized early on that when they slept in the same bed he lay still all night, but alone he tossed and turn throwing pillows and
tugging sheets. She calmed him on a level even he didn't like to admit to himself.
But there in the dark, none of that mattered. There it was him and her, flesh and spirit, silently existing in a small cocoon of alive
that made him feel whole in a world that picked apart the average man. Her hand moved across his stomach and pressed her
face closer into him. His soul relaxed.
The alarm went off.
He climbed out of his empty bed... another day had just begun.
It was his favorite time of day.
Lying there with his eyes open in the dark of the morning and staring up at the ceiling of the bedroom, enjoying the quiet before
the day started. He could hear the air conditioning, the birds chattering, the clink of the chain of the dog next door, as well her
breathing.
He liked her being there. He loved her.
There in the dark in bed it was just them, and he could enjoy her before the day took her away. Before schedules and phone
calls, friends and promises, duties and errands and all the other little bits of life that made each day so hectic intervened, he could
lie there and just be happy she was there with him. One of his life’s simple dreams had been to fall asleep each night in the arms of
someone who loved him. And he said a silent prayer every night they crawled under the covers.
Some nights they lay back to back. Others a pair of floating figures shared the bed. This morning they were mildly intertwined,
her head nestled in the crook of neck.
He could feel her hand on his slightly round stomach and suddenly felt embarrassed and self conscious at the little bit of paunch
age was bringing. Her other arm was beneath her somewhere. Her hair smelled like new shampoo. Her thigh as on top of his and
her breath ruffled over his chest as he kept still as to not disturb her, and to enjoy the sometimes simple pleasure of contact.
Dressing for bed was the sleep pants she’d gotten him two years ago, the thick ones and a tee that he suddenly remembered
she’d gotten him as well. She slept in a pair of boxers and an old tee of his with Las Vegas on the front. She liked it cooler at night
so he dressed warmly.
He realized early on that when they slept in the same bed he lay still all night, but alone he tossed and turn throwing pillows and
tugging sheets. She calmed him on a level even he didn't like to admit to himself.
But there in the dark, none of that mattered. There it was him and her, flesh and spirit, silently existing in a small cocoon of alive
that made him feel whole in a world that picked apart the average man. Her hand moved across his stomach and pressed her
face closer into him. His soul relaxed.
The alarm went off.
He climbed out of his empty bed... another day had just begun.
What happens when you're too stupid to let go. And a little too much of
a romantic.
a romantic.