Half Hearted Attempts at Realism

When it’s one of those days where every sound grates your nerves, and everyone is too close, or too far away, and nothing sounds like fun, and even sex is an inconvienence to your miserable laziness, when your sweater’s to tight, too hot, too rough, without it you’ll freeze and socks just don’t cut it, and when going out is a hassle, and staying home makes you sick, and you’re hungry but nothing’s edible, your shower just isn’t right, and your favorite show isn’t funny, and you’re indifferent to kisses and hugs,  and you want to be alone, but can’t stand it when he says he might not stay the night….

It’s really nice when he does. And when he tells you you are allowed to be grumpy, you are allowed to be anything, and when he puts your fussy body to bed, and kisses you on your fussy brain, and falls asleep by your side, and you feel his warmth penetrating your gloom, and you fall asleep too…And then you wake up to kisses on your shoulder, before the night’s half over, and he strokes your hair, and holds you close, pulling you from muffled, mumbled, flighty dreams. And he tells you he had to, because he thought about how lucky he was, and how much he loves you, and how glad he is that he stayed. And you have 4 hours left to sleep, but this island of nighttime means so much more, and you can finally talk, and you might cry, but you don’t have to, but you could, and he says “I know” and the future is a promise, and the temperature returns to normal, and the tilt of the world comes back to horizontal, and cheek on chest, your only home that means anythign, you fall asleep safe, and when you wake up, you can breathe.

This is something nice, this is where my love comes from, this is where it goes.