I love it when you don't immediately get out of bed in the morning. When you hit snooze and grab my body by the hips and pull me toward you to snuggle closer for a moment. When you press your nose into my hair and exhale with that sigh that means, "You're warm and it's cold out and I don't want to get up yet."
I love it when your hands wrap around my chest and you slide one leg over mine. I'm loathe to move a muscle. Under the covers, under the dark morning's frost, under the orange watercolor sky, under the fractured and peeling ceiling, I am still as stone. I am hoping you will stay.
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