Waking up with You

I wake up mumbling and groggy. The right side of my face feels squashed from sleeping face-down on my pillow. I slowly bend my fingers; they are numb and feel alien to me. My legs are stiff, the aftershock of a night one can’t ever forget. After our early dinner at Coco’s and a fine bottle of Cabernet franc, we eased into hours of dancing, our bodies close, in crowded hotspots around the city. I smile at the memory of how we were; how we laughed, how we looked at each other, and, how we kissed. I tentatively stroke my lips with delicately-stepping fingerprints. I remain in my nostalgic haze for a moment longer, a sweet reminiscence that only foreshadows future moments to come.

The apartment is still, in these early hours of the day. There is little to be heard, other than Marsh's muffled breaths. He too is laying face-down. His well-defined arms are resting above him. They frame his sleeping face, on the canvas of the white pillow-case. He looks so young when he sleeps. No, I take that back; not young, just peaceful. The gentleness that is fashioned in deep slumber softens his strong facial features. A warmth washes over me as I lay there, gazing side-ways at him. My fingers have regained consciousness. However, they now burn with a craved hunger to touch him. After the night we had, he deserves some sleep, I tell myself. And so, I continue to lie there for a while longer. I keep my hands to myself. My eyes though, they are free to wander.

Our bedroom is open-plan and allows for the subtle but generous light the early morning brings to infiltrate, and to stream in freely. Tall, rectangular windows fitted into the face-brick with black-metal frames, ensure this. I am surprised by Marsh's reluctance to wake, given the aura of brightness surrounding him this morning.

The sun has gradually been rising and has just about reached the point in the sky where its rays can shine down, through the thin glass panels built into the window's frame, adjacent to his bedside. Diagonal beams penetrate the interior of our bedroom and enhance all things visible - including Marsh. I become distracted with the small flecks of dust, which skate and dive spasmodically, along the sunbeams, as well as other branches of light; these stretch from the outer windows to the plainly painted, white wall to my left. I graze my eyes over our collection of framed pieces. There are five frames in total that hang, evenly spaced, decorating the wall. The range of artwork completes our somewhat simplistic room, adding a dash of vibrancy. The mellow blue tones are easy to admire when paired with bold naturistic designs and hazy, city skylines.

I lower my eyes to our textured, white cotton bedspread, now crumbled by sleepy limbs. I wriggle quietly and roll over onto my right side. I lean my elbow on my pillow, as to prop my head up with the palm of my hand. The touch is cold on my skin but soon warms, by the heat of my pink-tinged cheeks. I openly admire him, as he lies there next to me, oblivious to outer-world. His visible eyebrow twitches and it is reciprocated by a small jolt in his right leg. A loving smile hovers over my lightly chapped lips. I try to suppress a giggle.

His slender figure is illuminated and tinctured, faintly. The golden light, ever so slightly, varnishes his skin and casts small shadows across the covers. Creases in the bedsheets give the illusion of hollow spaces. His distinctive nose; defined by the muted imprints from its inner-structure of intricate bones, casts a faint and triangular shadow all its own.

His long brown eyelashes begin to flutter. His eyelids crinkle and he draws a fast breath in through his nose. It was most likely a combination of the power of my demonstrative gaze and the intense morning's light, - which has shone and smoothly transcended into a clearer mid-day light – that encouraged his eventual stir. I know him. He'd sleep from dawn to dusk on these kinds of days, if I could let him.

I hold my breath.

The autumn hues of his eyes, I have been longing to see since I woke hours ago. As if hearing my thoughts, his eyes lazily open and innocently absorb their surroundings. It takes him mere seconds to focus in on me. His lopsided smile, dopey and doting, settles on his carved but elegantly curved lips.

I release the air in my lungs with a smile. I feel so at home in this moment.