Inoka

Sleeping your hair and your face are doing things you wouldn't knowingly let them do. It's cute. You are foreign in my bed, you are beautiful, you half wake up and ask, "Whacha doing?" You mumble, "Come back to bed."

"Keeping you safe." - I think to myself. I get you a glass of water because the air is warm and my eyes may or may not fill with tears because we are living on such rationed time and every piece of it is too valuable to sleep through. So I stay up and breathe you in. This is not fear of time passing, don't misunderstand. That used to be it, when your own bed was accustomed to me and to no other man. But now this is an optimistic drive to collect all the moments of you I can steal up. I will see what I can weave them into and see if that fabric will hold for a long long time. To see if things can "pan-out" like a movie script. You won't realize what's happening; you will go back to sleep curled toward me. I have given myself a chill over the sleepy planes of you. Writing this. That's how I like it. I will keep watching; you sleep.