Letter #11

Dear Love,

The living room is dark, except for the grey light streaking in through the windows. It is quiet, bare of the usual tv chatter, and almost still except for the pattering rain outside. The storm has lightened. You are asleep next to me, curled like a child.

It is oddly comforting to watch your chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. I love the nothingness of this moment. It feels as if we have somehow stolen away from the madness that is happening in the world right now. Even more so, it feels as if I am finally able to catch a breather from the perpetual restlessness that my mind is in. I wish I could bottle this moment up.

Don’t get me wrong though. I love the rough sweaty moments when our kisses are interrupted only by the need for air. I also love the hours we spent cooking together, dancing through greasy fumes and tantalising aromas. But this moment speaks of a comfort with each other that needs neither effort nor thought.

I am tempted to kiss your cheeks right now, but I won’t because I don’t want to wake you.

My heart is happy. I hope yours is too.


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