she sits there, quietly and blissfully unaware of my presence. in fact, she doesn't seem to be aware of anything beyond the occasional fleeting dream.
curled in the chair, innocent in the muted yellow lamplight, she breathes steadily, confidently. i envy her abandon, though i suppose i look strikingly similar when immersed in the throes of a deep REM movement.
her hair, short and impossibly shiny, is yielding to the soft tracing of my fingertips, and the airy pressure of my lips (for the traditional good night forehead kiss).
she sighs helplessly, and burrows her face a bit deeper into the crook of her arm. beautiful. unassuming.
her eyes pull open for an instant, unfocused and languid; a startling gold piercing the mundane surroundings. slowly, the lids re-align themselves to their preferred positions. she twists a bit, flopping her body sideways into the crimson cushion. another sleep sodden sigh escapes her; her ribs strain into the cushion with the pressure of emminent release.
i have love sleeping on my living room chair. too bad she's a hell raiser come dawn. however... i wouldn't have it any other way.
5:17 a.m. - 2001-09-19
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