when I wake up in the middle of the night,
be it a nightmare, or too hot, or have to
piss,
I reach for you,
the way a child reaches for a mother,
upon skinning a knee,
or a small dog,
pushes its head into an owners foot.
I hold you as tight as I possibly can,
before my grip would
wake you up,
as if to say to visiting souls,
“you can not take her.
she is mine.”
and before I drift back off,
I say these words to myself,
I swear to God I do,
I say,
“I still can not believe that you
are mine.”
you, my love, are an essential part of me.
for without you,
I would
fall apart.
