I have come to adore sleep.

Sleep is when you are all mine, and if you aren't next to me, I can dream that you are. No one is taking your time up but yourself. No one can disturb our time together, until morning texts you feel are important. Calls will go unanswered at this time. No one can interrupt a conversation we have, for there are none. [In the waking world, I give into my competitors stronger voices and uninteresting chit-chat; how can they have so much to say?] You're so sweet at the time right before sleep, and it's just for me. I try to stay up just a little longer than you, so that I can relish it. The quieter I am, the more I can tell you are soundly asleep. If I am loud, if I do toss, you stay sleeping anyway. If I move ever so slightly toward you, you will fling your arm over my waist and snuggle in close, sounding so content. I do this often. You rarely remember these instances.


Then that bloody dog will bark, or that damn phone will chatter, or someone will need a favor, and you're up and away from me and my world where it is just us. You'll take on your role being big brother to everyone who requests it of you. I'll close my eyes and pretend you're still next to me, and dream of it until it is too cold to convince my sleeping self to remain there, when I jolt awake and wonder where you are. I know where you are. You're always there. I'm not in a relationship with all these people, most of them couldn't give a damn about me anyway. Then I wait all day for sleep to come again. Will I be allowed to stay tonight? Or will I have to sleep uncomfortably at home, where it is at least quiet, but you aren't there? Perhaps I'll just stay up all night, in hopes of napping with you later.


And that, dear, is why I sleep in so late.