His breathing is getting louder.
It’s his body letting me know he’s falling asleep.
The weight of his head under the tip of my elbow gets heavier.
I can feel his sleepy leg slowly loosening it’s tight grip around my naked thigh.
With every partial snore he entrusts his appetite for restfulness into my bed.
I let him sleep even though our arrangement is to get as little sleep as possible when we are together.
I’m in bed with a man and my chest is not try to kill me for it. A silent smile forms on my face.
And even though he’ll never feel like home, I enjoy letting him have all these firsts of mine.
His nose breathes into my face, I don’t look away. He does this every two seconds and I still let him.
His one hand is enclasped into my own and the other is resting around my waist.
He opens his eyes and his body stops being limp. He tries to smile.
He holds me tighter, and with his eyes slowly closing again, he asks if I’m okay. I tell him that I’m fine.
More questions follow. Are you happy? Do I satisfy you? I assure him that I am.
I’m used to this routine. It’s been here ever since we first started falling asleep in each other’s warm embrace.
It resembles love this thing we do but I always have to remind myself that it really isn’t.
He goes back to sleep. I stay still alone with my thoughts again.
I close my eyes and wonder how many more nights of nothingness will I have with him.
Photo By: Lonwabo Zimela