Drowsy Love

Dread floods my unconscious mind as my body stays sunk into the divot made over many nights like this.

I am thrown into a weird place, somewhere you and I go every day without realizing it. I am not yet fully conscious, but my sleep no longer accepts and comforts me.

As my eyes fully open over the next few minutes, I am somehow in my kitchen, the only light illuminating the area is the clock on the stove.

3:47 a.

It only runs like 14 minutes early, but I’ll fix it “tomorrow”.

The glass of water sits above my face, acting as a lifeline to my body functioning like a car with no

gas.

My eyes have since adjusted to the nocturnal aura of my tiny apartment. There you are, deep in the same position that I wandered away from.

My zombie-like state allows me to use the rest of my energy left to climb into bed next to you. You begin to enter the same zone I did just a few minutes ago.

But for you, it’s just enough time to lazily grab my arm and pull it over you as your warmth fills my chest, piercing through to my heart as well.

Your mane of long, black (usually) straight hair has become a makeshift bomb, wires hazily spewing everywhere, ready to blow at any moment.

At this point in time, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Home is an idea of a brick-and-mortar building, with pumpkin pies and Nat King Cole’s “Christmas Song”.

Right now, and becoming my everyday reality, home is wherever you are. Home is this creaky bed with a giant body dip in it.

Home is the car next to you, my hand in yours. Home is looking over and seeing that smile that unleashes those butterflies into pit of my stomach since you walked into class.

Home is a phone call from you, uttering the words that I hear come from your raspy, sleepy, beautiful voice over your shoulder that faces me:

“I love you”