I saw you.

I saw you, falling asleep on my shoulder in the hotel room on Thanksgiving. Your blanket clutched close, you reminded me of the that smiling four-year-ol that I saw in a old picture that you once showed me. "It's juvenile. I should really get rid of it, you once said to me, though I hushed you and pulled you in closer to me, saying that I found it endearing. With a dreamy, half-awake smile, you gave me a kiss on my nose intended for my lips. I smiled, snuggled in closer, and found that spot in the nape of your neck. The spot where we fit like puzzle pieces, where your arms enveloped and protected me from the reaches of the dark, the skeletons n my closet, the ghosts of my past. Slowly drifting in and out of consciouness, the last thing I remember is the soft rise and fall of your chest methodically easing me into sleep.

Such is love.