At the ring of my iPhone, I wake up in my usual sleepy daze. You reach over me and turn it off for me because you know I have trouble getting up in the morning.
I mutter something about having to get up and slip back into a subtle sleep. I struggle between reality and dreamland for a minute before I open my eyes to see your arms open. Your eyes closed.
The light is coming through the window and bouncing off your bare chest.
I pull my head up, shifting my long hair out from under your arm and wrap my left leg over your body as I pull closer.
I bury my head above your breast bone near your meaty shoulders. You wrap your arms around me in the familiar places. I cup your face with my left hand to stroke your scratchy cheek.
What a familiar contentment.
I used to gag at stories about lovers being perfect puzzle pieces. How cheesy and over used that was in Hallmark cards.
But, there is no denying that my place is right above your breast, nuzzled into your shoulder, and wrapped around your body.
I could pass onto a different world in those arms, a world of serenity and ease. Where there is only us and that moment. Where the sunlight always shines, and we speak with our bodies.
Where we tell each other, every morning, I love you without saying a word. A world that only exists in your arms.
This is love.