We wake up in the morning face-to-face. Well, I wake up. You’re asleep. Your eyes are closed. For a minute I just look at you. I start at your hairline. Your sleep-rumpled mane. My gaze sweeps down to your forehead, your temples, your ears. Your adorable ears. I reach one hand up and delicately run one finger over your ear.
I look down to your nose. Your cute little nose. The curve above your lip, down to your top lip. The soft parting of them where your breath comes out. Your lower lip. Your chin. Your jawline. I love all of it. I want to soak all of you up with my eyes. I want to remember everything. I want to take a picture with my mind.
Just let me have this. Let me have you.
Outside, the sounds of the city streets echo. I can hear cars, the murmurs of people talking, our neighbors turning on their shower. I can hear the world beginning to turn. It’s early. The sun is soft yellow and filtered by gray. I can hear a light breeze, a distant alarm clock, a ruffle as you shift your legs in your sleep — closer to mine, wrapping our ankles together.
I look at your neck, your shoulders, your arms. I take you in. I take a deep breath and I smell you. You always tell me you smell like nothing in particular, but you’re wrong. You smell like you. You smell like you in the morning — warm and cozy and like love.
This is my favorite time. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love when we’re awake together, obviously. I love when we make breakfast or, more realistically, go grab bagels down the street. I love when we take walks and go to parties. I love everything about being awake together. But this, right now, when we’re cuddled together, under the covers, me half-asleep and you fully-asleep, is the time I love most.
When you wake up, who knows what will happen? When you wake up, the spell is broken. When you wake up, anything could happen. Or nothing could happen. I could lose you. Or we could fall more in love. But it’s a risk. It’s always a risk. And now, in this little minute before we wake up, before our day begins, it’s quiet. It’s simple. It’s nice.
Just let me have this.
Let me have looking at your face uninterrupted. Let me have running my hands through the hair on the side of your head. Let me have listening to your breathing. Let me have feeling your warmth from your chest and arms. Let me have you. Let me have this.
That’s the thought I have as I watch you sleep: Let me have this. Just let me have this.
Then, you open your eyes.