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.
5.29.14
