Each night I died, sleep slowly overtaking my brain. And each morning I woke and would lie there so disappointed at the very act of waking, my tiny deaths only temporary. I struggled to move, bound by the weight of my demons sitting in my lungs until, with a lengthy sigh, I'd breath them out and force myself up.
Each night I fall, sleeping soundly in knowing that I am cared for. And each morning I wake and bound up, bursting with energy and the need to press my lips to your. I'm so grateful to have another day, more chances to be caressed by the sound of your voice. I am weightless, and I let out a content sigh, not wanting to get up only because I have found perfection in your arms.