Sometimes,
I pretend to still be sleeping.
Eyes unopened,
Still wrapped around her.
I revel in the snores
Even when they’re deafening.
The warmth of my bare chest
Pressed against her bare back.
Her hair tangled in my septum piercing.
Not daring to move
But, more importantly,
Not wanting to move.
So, I drift back to sleep
Not ready to break this spell.
How incredibly sweet. That the narrator tolerates the snores – even finds them endearing – is a true appreciation of another’s existence. Love the “septum piercing” detail – gives us small character traits of each of the subjects. Good for the narrator for not breaking the spell. When others are gone from our lives, these are the moments we wish we would have savored. Kudos!