She had begun to welcome sleep
the way some people welcome spring.

Not because she was tired,
though she was.
Not because the world grew quiet,
though she needed the silence.

She welcomed it
because somewhere beyond waking
he was waiting for her.

There,
his eyes always found her.

His hands knew the language
her skin had spent a lifetime trying to translate.
They lingered with impossible patience,
learning every inch of her
as though she were something precious
instead of merely passing through.

In dreams,
she never wondered
if she had asked for too much.

She never measured the distance
between his words
and his presence.

He looked at her
as though there were nowhere else
he would rather be.

He gave her his attention
so completely
that it settled over her
like warm rain on thirsty earth.

His fingertips left no marks,
only memories
that somehow survived the morning.

Then dawn arrived,
merciless in its honesty.

The pillow was only a pillow.
The room was only a room.
Her hand reached across empty sheets,
searching for a man
who belonged only
to the kingdom behind closed eyes.

Perhaps that was why
she chased sleep so willingly.

It was the only place
where she never had to miss him.

The only place
where his touch
lingered long enough
to convince her heart
that for a little while,
she was exactly where
she had always wanted to be.

© 2026 Wynter Rayne. All rights reserved.