I want to sink
And lose myself 600 ways in you
Losing myself in how you feel,  
How you smell.
A softness that doesn't fray
Between the heat  
Shared between you and me,  
It doesn't wrinkle.  
It doesn't crease.  

It's not a traumatic response  
From any part of your or my journey.  
You breathe against me
The kind of comfort that trust  
Cannot put into words.  
Unrushed. Patient.  
The way home should feel.

Before true happiness,  
I stretch and unwind  
In your quiet
Twisting and turning,  
My face pressed into how  
Warm you are.  
When I lay on you,  
I don't want to get up.  
I want to lay here and dream,  
Far from the suffocation  
That exists away from you.  

No matter how rough I am,  
Compared to your softness
This goes beyond material reality
Where hands and feet  
Don't have to beg for rest.
They just are.

There are no wrinkles in how you love,  
In the way you unfold and spread yourself.  
Eventually,  
Love doesn’t stay young forever.  
It matures in its openness.  
In this, there is surrender.  
I am consumed in you
No longer twisting,  
No longer turning,  
But at peace.
Whether I am closing my eyes
Or opening them.
I am glad that you're here