Marking Territory

And for the hundredth time I am thankful I sleep facing the wall. For when my eyes shut and your sweet weight falls on me and your words swirl circles in my mind, the corners of my mouth lift as for no other creature or amusement. It’s my favorite secret that something from this world can still launch a smile from my heart to my face with no toll on the way. Beyond our private communion there is so much slippery sadness rolling through my home. The space between my soft underbelly and the wall in front of me is a warm incubator of my future, of all I long to grow into — of the hectares of space I plan to occupy once I clear out the fetid air behind my crown. So I claim this 18 square feet of sleep and dreams and waking fantasies with all the power I can find in these narrow days of mine. I match the strength of your fulcrum under my heart with an intention to move forward and find you directly when larger spaces open up around us.