My partner plays footsie... while completely fast asleep. It's the most darling phenomenon. Or will roll over and heave this big sigh and throw an arm across me - completely unconscious - or I go to the bathroom and when I come back my pillow has been swept up and is now being cuddled in my place, like a surrogate-me, to facilitate survival until my return.
Having a partner who's not so big on words can leave a poet feeling lovestarved sometimes. Me, I gush them like a fountain. All the time. Sometimes I worry it's too much. And all I want is to hear some sweet words, about anything, about me, or my dimple, or that I cook all the time, or even just those traditional three, and I've always had trouble falling asleep, and I lay awake wondering if I'm not good enough...
...and then those sneaky feet sliiiiide across the sheets to hug mine, and the whole wide world just melts away.
