Dawn's almost cracking, and I am lying chest down on the bed, with my head to my right.
There he is, peacefully resting, with light snores, almost inaudible.

And there comes my little grin.

I would wonder. How does he make me feel this way?

By just looking silly in his sleep.

I stare at the face again.

Everything seems roundish, the frame, the chin, the nose, the lips, even the fingers that bent over his forehead.
His face seems soft and pinkish from the low light, with morning stubbles peeking out.

An absolute delicacy to me. If he were a cotton candy, I would bite him off gladly.


6 foot with 6 pecs, he is not.
Tanned, lean and buff, he is not.
Killer jaws, mean deep-set eyes, he is not.


A sight for my eyes anyday, he is.

This is love, my dear.

He is a sight, not just despite.., but because.



And at such sights,

There'll be this overwhelming urge to run into his soft, marsh-mallow embrace

inhale his sweetness and feel my heart soar.