Poetry

Sleep

You laid there on the couch with your eyelids gently pressed closed, soft murmurs of breath fluttered from your lips while the light poured out in gentle rays between the spaces of the plastic blinds hanging over the window pane behind you. 

You slept so gently and I couldn’t help but watch the rising and falling of your chest, the tranquility of this movement so small, somehow incapacitating. 

I have never before seen you so gentle. 

I feel like I am a part of something foreign, that I should avert my eyes and allow you to have this moment in its entirety, to yourself. I am intruding upon your journey into a place where space exists between your thoughts, where you are able to sail smoothly in uncharted waters, or fight whatever battles lie beneath the golden strands of your short cropped hair. 

And suddenly you breathe in deeply, and I am startled, because I fear that my gaze has woken you from the peaceful sleep that you so deserve. So I rise from the carpet slowly, hoping to make no noise, and allow you to continue forth, 
Alone. 

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