You're like remembering how to breathe.
Not the choking gasp when you crawl up from water or the panting hiss that comes when the panic lets go.
You're the steadying of your breath as you fall asleep.
You're midday coffee and candles just lit and the lilt of a laugh that catches in your throat when you're so happy it feels like you'll break
Seeing the stars through the smog and looking down at mountains from the window of a plane
you're the cold of the ocean and warmth of a bed on the mornings you wake an hour before the alarm and the quiet of a snowstorm in the middle of the night
You're every word I know, but I can't find a way to string them together to explain how it feels when I wake up feeling your heartbeat.