I used to ask my boyfriends if they would still love me in the morning. I’d ask if they’d want me as badly at 2pm as they all seemed to at 2am. I’d hold my breath that I would forever be what they wanted. A stupid thought, I realize now, given the fact that I was always the one who left.
I look at you lying next to me. Your hands draped across your chest, head slightly leaning to one side. It’s almost 2pm and we have been napping for a couple of hours. I roll over and wrap my small body around yours. My head rests on your chest and I feel your slow inhales and exhales of breath. You’re a heavy sleeper.
I will never quite know how we got here. From two years ago in LA, to a bad hook up, to building this love. When I never wanted to want anyone you showed up. You are the one who flies across the country to spend time with my family. Who supports every idea I’ve ever had. Who hopped on a 6 hour bus when I had a terrible day.
I never wonder if you’ll still love me in the morning.