There are so many more worthwhile things to do than write in this journal, things that are more intriguing to do right here, right now, with such possibilities laying asleep beside me. But my heart is full and I must preserve this moment. I must say all that had gone unsaid for so many years because it hadn’t been true yet.
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He lays here beside me, flung out in sleep, his deep breathing like a life support machine for me. I glance over and am arrested by his throat. If I keep very still, and look very carefully, I can detect his pulse softly, subtly throbbing under his skin. It fascinates me. He is so still that if I closed my eyes, I might almost believe I lie here alone. But no, I could still scent him out, still detect his heat reaching my skin.
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He is so beautiful to my eyes. I smile when I think how his hair will be odds and ends tomorrow morning. But then I lose interest in his hair as I study his collarbone, so strong. The line of it runs across his shoulders and chest, drawing my willing eye across his breadth.
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He stirs in his sleep, disturbed probably by the lamplight, and shifts my way. My heart splutters as his hand unconsciously settles on the small of my back and my breathing grows erratic as his heat spreads on my skin. Oh, yes, there are many more worthwhile things I could be doing right now. I’m so crazy in love that I wonder how I can keep still and just observe, just absorb. But that’s always been my way. I naturally fall still and silent, and let my brain grow thick with my thoughts, just letting my eyes rove as my breathing steadies into an almost sleep-like rhythm.
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I look so hard at him. I’m learning him, and not just him, but us and me. Who needs sleep?
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