When I met you, I couldn’t be happier than I was before. I can’t wait for the day when we both greet each other good morning with a kiss on the lips not minding how sour our breaths are. I can’t wait for you to climb the bed and cuddle me good night. These things and more, have long been overdue.
My midnight thoughts would normally be like these:
I come out of the bathroom fresh, beads of water still running down from my jet black hair as I try to wipe them out. My partner’s abed—busy with his phone. He raises his head at the sight of me half-naked. He looks at me in the eye with so much longing and love and fascination, his eyes talking of intense passion, like he need not to search no more. I am his, and he is mine.
He reaches out for me. He takes the towel off of my hand and wipes me dry. He hugs me from behind, his cheeks pressed against my nape.
“What is it, honey?” I ask. A hint of smile on my face. I feel his, too. A shy smile. A triumphant one because he longs for this moment his entire life.
“I just feel so happy you are here with me tonight.” He answers.
I free myself from his warm embrace and I look at him in the eye and say, “I will be here until you say stop.”
“I don’t want this to stop. I want you . . . always.”
I lean down and feel his lips trace mine as we drown ourselves in the comfort of each other’s heat on the soft white mattress we call our love.