The mornings when your head is spinning with alarms, deadlines, and to-do lists. When you pace furiously around the kitchen, when you leave the dirty dishes in the sink, when you feel like you’re continuously running out of time. That’s when I want you the most.
I want to grab your arm and pull you to me, feel the muscles in your back, run my fingers through your hair and kiss the soft skin between your collarbone and neck.
I want to breathe calm air into your lungs, to slow your heart down, to keep you rooted with me, here in this moment.
I want to kiss you until your eyes close. To pull you back to bed with me and tuck the covers around you until you’re calm and warm.
I want to tell you I love you, and hear you respond, thick and slow, your voice coated with sleep.
I want your Monday mornings. When your mind is elsewhere, when you’re distracted and busy and anxious and stressed. I want your thoughts, your insecurities, your fears. I want you in all your vulnerability and craziness, your dread and irritation. I want the real you. When push comes to shove and you’re sick and tired of being sick and tired, I want all of you. Just like that.
And I want to be the kiss, the touch that centers you. Regulates your heart beat. Keeps you in control. Keeps you going.