i am slowly falling in love.
if i could write poetry, this would be a love poem.
she lies in bed, staring intently at the ceiling through her closed eyelids, taking in the way this person molds between the sheets. the deliberate breathing, as though this person knows that living can be a choice. she opens her eyes, sits up, lets her gaze fall on the constellation on the thigh of the blurry-eyed. traces the points to form a picture. the big dipper. eyes extend the lines, tracing what is not obscured from view by the bunched up blankets. smile crosses her lips. runs her fingers through hair mussed by sleep, and tucks a loose strand behind an ear. time to greet the daylight. walks to the bathroom, looks in the mirror. the face of a new lover and long-time friend stares back at her. the silence speaks snark: about time you noticed me.