The radio switches on. 5.20am. The room is well lit from the rising sun through pale curtains. In the mirror opposite the bed I see my figure; milky skin and nothing else. The sheets have fallen well below my hips, just touching the mid point of my thighs, brushing my feet. My eyes are slowly blinking and I’m breathing oxygen deep into my lungs; feeling the rush of air open every window and door inside me, pulling back every curtain and blowing the dust from every shelf. I’m awake and I turn. I turn like I do every morning into the other side of the bed. The other side which is always still made, duvet tucked beneath pillow and cold to touch. This morning, I turn and I find you. I see you washed in a morning peach aura. I see your blue, blue eyes; so blue they reflect all the constellations you see in me, even when I do not. You are there and you are perfect because your chest rises and falls in time with mine, because your arm is already tucking itself beneath my head and shoulders, pulling me to you, because I can hear the drumming of your heart in your chest and it is the bass to my own. You are perfect because you are here and we are listening to radio two wondering if this is how it feels when time stops, when the earth isn’t spinning on its axis and wondering if this will be the one good thing we can make last.
© Kristiana Reed 2018