Here
is where I can close my eyes
and feel the soft rise and fall of your chest against mine
and the exhale of warm breath on my cheek
recycled, filtered (and it’s so much more precious to me
knowing it’s been yours),
or I can open them
and watch the steady pulse of vein in your neck
where your dear blood passes so close to the surface
and know that the heart is both the end and the start.

Here
is where I no longer need to look for warmth
because it’s something convenient, opportune;
one of those things that is only noticed
when it is missed
but it’s not missed
here in your arms.

Here
is where the landscape of your face
swims in and out of focus
because this bliss is intoxicating,
and all I breathe in is your scent
and I’m drunk off of this.

Here
is where I know
(with our fingers tangled together)
that you are mine
and I am yours
and this is something that we share
and the way we look into each other’s eyes
is worthy of envy
because this is everyone's wish.

Here
is where I find I’m content,
in the alpha and omega that is your heart;
here, where it ends, and where it starts.

--

a/n: to kmh