there’s a spot

there’s a spot

between the groggy beginning of morning 

and the silent understanding of sleep 

in which you,

in your half awake state,

roll over to press your face into my back

and suddenly i feel that any gentle kisses you give could make me grow wings  

there’s a spot

between my spine’s curve and your stomach’s plush

that burns like a hearth,

crackles like peanut butter spread over hot toast

breakfast that you always ask me for a bite of

and i feel just as warm 

there’s a spot 

between the tentative tightrope between waking and sleeping 

holding no one but me, no one but you 

in all our fickle understanding of ourselves,

of each other, 

we are only us 

if i could, 

i would live in that spot forever