Loving, conferring husband, his forehead against mine, speaking in half whisper, eye to eye, nose to nose, fingers as interwoven as our lives. At best, he is my counterweight, at worst, I like him too much. At those times, I pull us off balance. "Bumblebee!" he will cry, and draw me into his arms. He'll breathe me in, though he is angry and confused, and he'll remember that we have a crush on each other.
Loving, conferring husband wants to know why I won't submit to the tv in the bedroom. I remind him of what our bedroom is for, wordlessly. I submit into his safety, but not to his tv. And then, we sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment