I twist myself from snuggle pose, (lying curled up into the crook of his arm, his fingers in my hair), to resting my head on his chest.
“I’m trying to say I love you with my eyes.”
“Oh, say it out loud instead.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Failing wins his stern disapproval. Pleasing him wins his favour. His favour is what I crave, and punishment my reward.
The sound of your voice provides me with incomparable happiness.
A picture of you could be the one to illustrate the word “agile”. How you bend and twist your mind and body around mine is a feat that is not merely acrobatic, but also pure brilliance.
And I move with you, as though it were pre-ordained.
Maybe it was?