wonderful is love

I think love is wonderful:
like knowing you have more time to sleep
and having not to worry that you’ll be late; or
that you’ll be late and it’s okay
because at the end of the day
my arm will sleep next to your arm
and your face will be next to my face
we’ll be so close;

so close
that when my dream ends
yours begin
and mine does too,
again and again.


“Hey, wake up. It’s time to go.”

I murmur an incoherent “okay” and then back to my dream.

I hear a switch turn on or maybe off. My eyes, still closed.

Then I felt two arms envelop me like a blanket, warm as if fresh from the laundry.


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