undertones.

It's really the only time I sleep well...

But then again, there's an excitement pitter-pattering

Like an undertow pulling my dreams along,

a bit closer to the surface of consciousness

Because I don't want to forget the feeling of nearness

And I'll wake a little annoyed with the alarm clock

A little annoyed with the daylight

Because I wish it was the middle of the night, and it would just hold a bit longer

I don't want this moment to slip past

Nothing is promised, and I sure cannot predict the future

But I hope, oh how I hope

Like a tiny little bird bravely singing in the witching hours.

He's bathed in morning light

And it's my favorite part of waking up early

Handsome in one of those classic ways that isn't really based on opinion

Pupils dilate, and there's the swell of the strings in the orchestra

Gentle crescendo

I have to hold my breath

It's all that I can do not to let the words escape

So I slip out quietly before I'm pulled in to his undeniable gravitational pull

pull

pull

Slip away into the tasks of the day

So hard to close the door

And hold it down

And hold it in

But it's undeniable

Coursing at such great speed just beneath the placid surface

but in the still of the night it sings

like a tiny bird in the witching hours...

echoing through the heart valves

each pulse...

sometimes tender

sometimes strong

sometimes raging

sometimes a desperate cry

and sometimes only a whisper

always singing

always true

"Oh how, I love this man."