When he wakes, he wakes slowly. Opening his eyes to watch mine sleep. Quietly slipping back from my body, propping a turquoise pillow behind my back in his place. Moving gently over my body. Pressing his warm lips softly to my forehead. Consciousness begins to stir inside me and I notice he is in front of me, no longer behind. I yelp out and swing my arms around his neck as he kneels next to my bed. Don't go. Don't go. Don't go. I didn't want to wake you. He says. Don't go. I have to. I need to go work on my goals... He says I inspire him to find happiness again. I think he already has it, has everything he needs. But if his perspective is opening when he's with me- then that's a compliment I'll take. Because he feels like love. Full of selfless small acts of caring for and pleasing me. Expecting nothing in return. He's a giver. He is air. He's feeding my flame.
//: on opening again
I'm busy working on my blog posts. Watch this space!