13 June 2012
When we sleep next to each other and your shoulders graze against mine, you move through me like different souls from another place. Weaving into me stories of past and present.
And when I lay next to you, I attend to your peace like a regular in a suit of black with a mask to cover my face, as if any of my attempts to be mysterious would have you mustering the will to wake up and put your arms around me.
But I'm silly like that. It makes me happy how full my bed is when you're around. How we have to squeeze because you would put the bolster at the other end and I would at least have one of my hands dangling in mid air the next morning.
It makes me happy how the silence of my home is beaten down with the clinking of the dishes in the kitchen at 3am because you're there busying yourself with the unnecessary.
I dream a lot about us because with you, I can sweetheart. I still dream of special tomorrows with you, I want you to know that You belong right here with me.
Because no matter what they say or how hard it's going to be, these hands they choose you.
These Hands They Choose You • Opuss № I