An afternoon wrapped in your arms feels mischievous, like skipping school. Selfish, like calling in sick for work when you are in perfect form. It is a guilty shared pleasure, a moment in suspension, letting the day slip away, seconds and minutes melting into fleshy hours of ebb and flow, contraction and release, for no greater purpose than our own. As evening approaches maybe scurrying off, back into the real world of responsibilities, cars, meals to be made. Or just sitting back to drink a glass of wine together as the sun silently sets, a moment to appreciate how truly lucky we are to have these moments, to be alive at all.
Being with you at night, after dinner in a restaurant, after a cocktail in a club, our breath coming together, a pungent mixed drink we share, I feel safe in your embrace. I smell the evening on your skin, we are giddy from alcohol and fatigue. The darkness is pushed farther into the background as your body engulfs mine, protecting me from all that lurches in the shadows. When all is said and done, I love to crumple on your strong chest, listen to you breathing as I fall asleep. On these nights sleep comes easily. My body and my mind and even my heart are sometimes perfectly content. My anxieties, usually hindrances to slumber melt away like tiny snowflakes in these times we spend together.
Without a doubt, I would choose the morning to be with you, given the choice. I love to be gently stirred awake by your warm, hard body. I feel liquified in a dream of your body coaxing me to the surface. All is limpid and soft, like making love on a cloud. I feel childish in the morning, at dawn, as if somehow sleep has taken us back to younger days. Vulnerable days. We have not yet put on our masks. We are naked, like newborns, even in our attitudes. In our thoughts. As your body enters mine, gently sliding, pulsing, I am so touched by your presence in my life that I feel like crying for a moment. Up at dawn with you, I am overflowing with emotions. What a beautiful way to start the day.