Just another personal regurgitation here. If these things bore you or you can’t stand sappy shit, just move along. Oh, and fuck you.
Sometime I know in the middle of the night, I was wide awake, thoughts racing. Any other time I would have been quick to be out of bed but Briley was asleep next to me after one hell of a second coming. So I just laid still and held her, both thinking of our night and enjoying her presence, but at the same time some ethereal part of me had gotten out of bed, put on some tea and composed a poem about how I had gotten out of bed and put on some tea. Reality usually has a split nature for me despite how focused, how content I may be. Eventually I drifted off into a dream.
This morning it’s funny to me that she still sleeps and here I am, up and writing dark poetry. But too much change I think can swing back the other way and this is all quite nice how it is. I think perhaps I will read some for her and she will giggle and ask me to read them again.
I’m debating whether or not to wake her. She didn’t plan to stay. Work for her starts in a couple of hours. It would be nice if she didn’t have to rush out the door before we could do whatever a little more. Even this debate has become enjoyable to me. What a sap I am. I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.
Just nail me to the floor.