i woke an hour before the alarm went off, and spent the next hour cherishing small things:
the way the curve of your lower back and ass fits into the hollow of my hip and belly.
the side of my hip lightly pressed to your ass, and the sprawl of my leg close to your leg against the bed.
how that felt if i let my ankle touch your foot.
how it felt if i moved my ankle over.
how it felt if i put my ankle back; playing with the current between my leg and your leg.
rolling over again, curve against hollow again.
onto my back but slightly lower, the long flank of my thigh against you.
awake and cherishing, and drifting into doze, and awake again. words flitting through my mind like birds, "flank" and "hollow" again and again. your still soft breath in sleep.
i considered waking you to make love, but decided that what i really needed was this, the simple nourishment of your flesh against mine, effortlessly, just the utter rightness of the proximity of you. i did not touch you with my hands, did not want to wake you, i was loving the sweetness of your stillness and my quiet. waking in quiet and joy to your body and my body, to me and to you, the thing that makes most sense to me in this life.
just before i got up i let myself roll over and stroke your hair. i am fond in sleep lately of your temple, and of your sideburn at the corner of your jaw.
today you were facing away from me, so i was loving your left side.