Sleeping with the Cosmos
You call to me like a siren’s song, but I cannot always answer. I do try though. I sleep little and late to be with you and I would not have it any other way. Your sleeping is an unequal orbit soaring through space: sometimes the moon will catch hold of you and rock you to sweet slumber, but oftentimes it is the sun who picks up the aching bones. They fight over you.
I would fight over you. Or not. I am not a fighter, but I know that you mean enough to me that I lose track of my past when I am with you. I live fully and wholly in that moment with you: drinking coffee, waking in the sun, holding your smooth hands, kissing your sweet lips. That moment is my everything.
That moment is hard for me to come by. I work long and hard hours in a job that I love, but I occasionally find myself longing for your company. Ours is a new romance, but I feel a sense of comfort with you that is hard to write on this bright white paper.
To date you more often and again after that would be nice. But to live everyday life with you would be best. I rise early so I slip out of bed and put strong hot black coffee in a dark old press. You can sleep a few minutes more before I gently suggest you wake up (good coffee helps).
It would be nice to see this day unfold with you, and the day after that, and so on until one day we look back and smile at us. And sleep will come naturally to us and when we wake, we will find that we have no hate in the world.
