Staring as you sleep, at home in your embrace, as I watch your eyelashes, still and resting. Most mornings, I am overwhelmed, opportunistic, as I burrow under the covers, clinging to your chest, annoyance that you earned, by appearing in my life, and making me fall in love with you. I hold onto you, and…

I can’t touch you, because I’m so fragile, and just a second in your arms would destroy me, but there is nothing else that will fix me.