White Sheets

I crave the feeling of his skin on mine, and his pulse synchronizing with my own.

I crave the snaking of his arms around me instinctively and subconsciously pulling me the ever slightest closer to him while he still resides in dreamland.

I crave the softness of his lips on my shoulders and neck; the way he peppers me with kisses until they slow down, and his eyes start to flutter shut.

I crave the feeling of our limbs tangling up with each other and the way our legs find their rightful place in time…

Any other type of sleeping is a waste of time, now that I’ve found myself only wanting this with him. He makes me feel like I’m sharing secrets with another world, one only we can access.

I can’t get enough of his smell mixing with my own.

I smell him on me for hours and find my heart swelling and growing dizzy with every passing second.

I want the white sheets with him and sweet melodies of his whispers becoming steady breathing.

I want the slight breeze of the open window and pesky rays of light that try to tear us from the sweetness of this sanctuary we’ve come to treasure so much.

I want to roll him over and watch him smile as I lightly kiss his nose.

I want to be a mess of sheets with him and always feel that little tightened grip he has on my hips the moment I kiss him.

I want the countless mornings filled with his smiles and my blushing face hiding under the white sheets and his chest.

I want him and everything that comes with the white sheets, whether it’s at night, morning, or during the day. I want the package of him and I with the white sheets we’ll get tangled in from here on out.