The room, blue leaning towards green.
The light, edging out of gray towards white.
The curtains, patterned with flowers and the shades open to the thin tree trunks outside.
The blue blanket covering your legs. The green one covering your foot. Your robe, edged in white around your neck. The contrast of your dark beard.
The glow of my face in the laptop light in the mirror opposite the bed. The kitchen things laying on the floor in colors like candy.
The sparkly tree alight the dollhouse, turning endlessly as the candle glows amber next to it.
In this room it smells like the bath you took, the candles alit and us. The heat clicks on and off softly, the cars swoosh by every so often, the rain is creating the most delicious lullaby to dose off to. I feel my eyelids growing heavy as I type this. The glorious nature of falling asleep mid-day. I am doing work, I am. I promise I am getting things done. But from the happiness of my shoeless feet stretched across my bed and not standing for hours at a time counting down the seconds till freedom. You next to me, asleep or not asleep; scratching your head and somehow eating a power bar all while maintain the even in-and-out breathing of a puppy in a basket. I admire you and your deep inhale and exhales. You slip in and out of consciousness as easily as the rain stops and starts on the window.
Perhaps this is love, thinking someone’s sleeping is special.
(But your teeth grinding is still very annoying.)