So.

When you wake up in the morning and you don’t think,
I am a perfect specimen of a human being, I am everything we were meant to be, I am glad to be alive and I am proud of, and glad for,  who I am…well you probably didn’t have enough fun last night, so.

I Have to Tell You.

Typing with one hand. Enjoying, suffering, how long?
Enduring gladly, the happy paralysis, of a love snoring lightly, in my arms.
Culminating in gentle carriage to bed and the satisfaction of settling there.
There, so peaceful, for awhile.
You. You want this to be you.
I, I want this to be me.