I will choose to do so ten times out of ten
because in this life
there are some things more important than sleep
and this,
this is all of them.

At first you don't sleep well, if you do at all. Then you acclimate, and even become profoundly fond of the whole thing....and then one day they're not there and you don't sleep well, if you do at all.

I'll admit to the twinge of envy as you settle your arms around me and your breathing begins to change nearly instantly. If I am still for the next few minutes--no kisses, no questions, no giggles, you will be asleep and I will be awake, intertwined with you. I try to imitate you, imitate a sleeping person for long enough sometimes the body is fooled into becoming one too. But sometimes this trick does not work. Still, I'd rather be here than anywhere else.

I continute to pantomime sleep so as not to disturb--feel the rise and fall of steady, strong breath, feel your heart beat. Often your muscles will twitch ever so slightly, your hands move over my body as you dream. Your arms are locked around me, if I wanted to move it would be difficult to...but I don't want to. Our bodies locked together like two puzzle pieces. From this vantage I can see your face peaceful in sleep, feel the breaths soft against my forehead. I can kiss you, and you will anticipate this unconsciously and will return my kiss.

I'd rather be here than anywhere else.

Even though he sleeps terribly with me in the bed:

I relax easily in his arms:
Feeling his breath against the nape of my neck,
Loving the feeling of his torso against my back,
My curves fitting well with his angles.

I quickly fall asleep,
Leaving him to listen to my sighs and mumbles,
Avoiding my cold feet against his shins,
His arms still sitting still at my waist.

Will this someday end? Someday will I wake, well rested and content in the mornings, to find him equally rejuvenated?

I'm no fortuneteller. Perhaps having a king bed would help.

Pillows don't breathe against your neck,
there is no gentle rising of the chest
with every in-drawn breath.
No fingers to trace down one's spine,
the touch for which to pine.
No careful caress in the middle of the night,
no half-awake shifting to hold me tight.

No words accurately describe the exact differences between hard ribs beneath my fingers and the softness of a pillow, or the slight mumbling in sleep, without which the world would be silent.

Twisting letters on a page do not tell you what is different between sleeping alone or sleeping together, words are entirely inadequate to explain why I would rather a half-decent night sleep with another than a full one with my arms clutched around a pillow.

I cannot properly portray what one must only experience, just, I'd much rather have a human's heart under my ear as I try to fall into a heavy doze. Pillows don't demand much, they're comfortable, and they won't wake me up, but they are nothing compared to sleeping with you.

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