Soft
Watching you sleep is like watching the moon
you are so far away and so close at the same time
and when I press my lips to your cheek I see light
not the kind that radiates, because sleep is a quiet force
but the kind of light that glows softly from the tenderness of your skin,
the whisper of your breathing,
the gentle twitch of your hand.
I wonder what you dream about
when I’m not laying next to you
I wonder what escapes from your past
and echoes in your mind
and causes storms on the ocean of your consciousness
I wonder if there are moments you wish you could bring a flashlight into the corners of your mind
and clear out everything that’s been burrowing for years,
packed in sealed boxes with tiny holes cut into the cardboard
leaking the memories you forgot could still make you feel.
You peek your eyes open and I smile
and you make a small sound that I can only hear
if I press my nose to yours,
and I try to remember what it’s like to sleep alone
fearful of dark shadows that make their home inside my heart
and begin to sing, most nights
songs of broken promises and the numbness of days
that I lived without hope of tomorrow
before I knew that a world in which I had you could exist
before I matched my sleepy smile to yours
before I had you as a nightlight.
Your breathing quiets and the moon starts to make way for the sun
and I’m hoping the storms have calmed inside you
but if they haven’t just know that I’ll hold your hand anyway
and even if that storm carries into daydreams
that come home and sleep with you at night
baby, know that I’ll slip in beside your aching body
and we’ll count stars with kisses,
and breathe the past into the sea.