Somehow we clash, we come together. The violence of our selves fuses us and forms a functional machine.
You with your lethargy, the clarity of your sharp blue eyes, the smooth movements of your hands, and me with my frenetic energy, the uncertainty in all things that makes up all of what I am. I fluctuate and flex around your sharp edges. You maintain your rigidity, your walls give me form.
I find myself falling asleep in your arms, your lap, your embrace. My eyes flutter closed even as I press my lips to yours. You flush pink. You flush pink.
I sleep. I don’t dream. The sounds of the world filter in and convince me that I am awake, truly awake.
I sleep. You flush pink.