And all I can think about is how it would feel to bury myself inside of her. To wake up next to her; her leg tangled over mine, and her arm flung across my chest like she’s claiming me in her sleep. To hear the quiet sigh she makes when the sun hits her face, or the way she hums without realizing it while she writes her stories. To be allowed to know those tiny, ordinary moments like scripture. To have all of her. Not just in the dark, but in the light—in front of everyone—soft and real and mine.
