When the snow settled and the ground froze
and the sky turned from grey to an eminent purple,
I was still in his room: snuggled under his blanket,
surrounded by his heat,
wrapped in his arms.
It was nice being there; it was a place I had never been before,
with a lamp on dim in the corner and his breaths calm and quiet.
I knew his eyes were closed, and I wanted to close mine,
but I kept them open so I could memorize the moment.
My cheek rested against his chest, and his fingers drew
slow circles into my shoulder,
and he was pink and pale, and the room glowed
under deep golden light,
and this was a moment that I knew I belonged in.
Every few minutes, he would press a silent kiss into my forehead,
and I would melt a little more into him.
It was nice being there, with him.
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