Chasing poetry down aisles,
Isles of words in tomes
Hushed tones,
Tucked between the shelves
I’m falling more in love with
Your voice with every word
Night comes
The time passed too swiftly,
But you stayed
Curled up next to me, asleep
Subtitles on screen flicker,
Ignored in favor of turning pages
“E.T, phone home"...
No need, for me
Could this be home already?
My fingers twisting your locks
Your back to me
Chest rising and falling in soft lull
Turning over in sleep,
A hand peeking out from the blanket
Almost touching mine
Your sigh, my pages forgotten
What are you dreaming of?
The air is soft, sleepy
Contentment, contentment, Could this truly be?

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