Fly Away From Here.

i need life to slow down.

because i miss the luxury of waking up slowly with him.

how it goes:

i’ll stir first. i ride his easy breaths for as long as i can stand leaving him be. my hand will greedily wrap around his sleeping biceps. the girth of his stance, even laying down like a modest child in bed, defines a grand world of masculinity in the yellow morning light. in partial consciousness, my palm travels knowingly to his chest. i swim overtop the sinewy summit of his shoulder blade and find the deepest line down the center, built quite deliberately for my forehead to be cradled in at the end of the day.

the heartbeat. an exhale. he serenades on. 

he’ll soon wake at my hot, quiet hand and immediately make a small, wistful sound. i am so happy to feel your touch before i could possibly encounter any other sensation today. good morning, beautiful. he opens his eyes. the geometry, mathematics, the calculated conclusion in his face – puckered brow all the way down to a keen, bristly chin – is shocking after five hours of night. no, i haven’t forgotten this sight that i’ve studied so verily for sleep’s bizarre speculations. but waking, crude eyes settling upon a pure, perfect, little thing looking back at you with the same eyes is a jolt of something soft and electric. i blink heavily as his calloused, meaty hand brings my face to his. we exchange morning breath and i tell him about the dream i was just having.

i’ll always have this.

the school days do not trudge on anymore. they pinch on, irritating and minimally painful as i accomplish things that i simply don’t care about anymore. i am sufficiently disenchanted. not with my choices or myself, but with my environment. suddenly, having another year left here seems upsetting. and i long to go home for a week and recharge. i miss my sisters. i miss my mother. i have never been so overworked and burnt out as i have allowed myself to get this particular semester. this all seems to be much more of a game than i’ve been led to believe the past three years. and while i’m disappointed, i am hardly surprised.

i look forward to manhattan this summer. living somewhere that has a sidewalk must be a whole new world.