Why We Sleep Together

I was referred by a post on A Cup of Jo to an article in The Atlantic, “Why We Sleep Together”. One part of the article makes the observation that, “It’s important to talk about our days lying side by side, discuss children and household situations, gossip about neighbors and colleagues, plan for tomorrow in the confines of private chambers.”

This article hit home for me as I am a fan of the nights where J and I curl up under the covers, turn out the lights, and fill the darkness with our secrets, our fears, our future plans and belly laughs (So sorry, Mister and Misses Neighbor!). The dark, as scary as we believed it to be when we were young, now provides a sense of security. With the house dark, save for the light-play of the tree branches in the moonlight projected on the wall, I feel safe sharing, writing, and pouring myself out.

Some nights, the trading of stories and spilling of secrets lasts into the wee hours of the following morning—but I’m not bothered by it. If anything, I wake the next day with an extra bit of light in my eyes and spring in my step because of the love that’s washed in and over and all around me as I lie in the dark and whispering my struggles and listening to J tell me his worries and his hopes before wrapping an arm around my middle, burying his face in my shoulder, and whispering “have a good sleep.”

As The Atlantic article states, “We are creatures of attachment.” And boy am I. I am attached at the heart and mind to one of the most thoughtful, loving, hard-working, beautiful men in all the world. And I know I have this little habit to thank for a great deal of the bond we’ve built over the last three months forever.



We take to the streets with hearts in autumn hues
and as time passed, our pigments start to lose
the burning of their reds as they melt into gold.
We fray ’round the edges and fight to keep hold.
With the shuffling of bodies as we each chase our calling,
we build a warm breeze that sets us each to falling.


In the Night

Just after midnight we were thrown into wakefulness by a crashing from the bathroom. Content in our awareness that it was nothing malevolent, just a faulty shower caddy tumbling from the wall, we adjusted and waited for our heart rates to return to a resting low. Yours quickly returned while mine refused to settle. With sore joints and a newly restless mind, I rolled over to the glow of my phone and began catching up on my articles.

Minutes passed and your breathing returned to the deep and rhythmic inandout that I loved. I read story after story, still unable to put my mind to rest. Adjusting your position, your legs and torso curled further, pushing against me with your backside, unaware of your own movements. You looked so small with your limbs sleepily folded; so peaceful; so beautiful.

Words began to pour into my mind:

We are a tumbling mess of limbs as we drop our defenses and fall in and against and along side one another.

We are imperfect in all the right ways; our protrusions and rough edges carefully sliding past and settling into the other’s concavities, filling them so naturally.

You adjusted again, unfurling your long legs and rolling onto your back, your face turning toward the glowing light on my face. Hey, you.

I cast aside my distraction and turned back to your sleep-soft face. Placing kisses ever so softly against your shoulders, your back, your neck, your forehead and your stubbled cheek. Tired and contented sighs escaped your chest, I couldn’t keep from running my fingertips in trails across your skin, I couldn’t keep from kissing your curves and corners. I was in love, so completely, in that moment. My heart was full and racing, threatening to explode. You are my everything, and I wanted you to feel it, I wanted you to know.

And so it went, for the next couple hours: a quietly spilling out of love while we wrapped arms around one another, intertwined our legs and pulled closer until our hearts struck the other through muscle and flesh. I couldn’t bear to release you, even for a moment. The words were pouring out and I just let them fall to the ground without putting them to paper because I didn’t want the moment to end, I didn’t care how many words I had telling me how the moment felt, I wanted to be in it, completely, and with my whole attention.

This is what loving you feels like, a whole body wrecking as we collide in the moonlight; a casting off of unrelated requirements so that I might spend a few more moments tucked with such care inside the cavities of your chest, caressing your heart in ways it never knew it needed to be touched.



You have single-handedly redefined so many words for me: connection, comfort, security, right, love…

Before you, “connection” was simply having a number of fairly inconsequential things in common, it was attraction. It didn’t ensure compatibility. Before you, “comfort” was the word that I threw around when I knew how to make someone laugh, when they could reciprocate, it was when I could easily fall asleep at their side. Before you, “security” was nothing to do with my emotional well-being. It was nothing I ever knew. It was an idealistic goal for a future I wasn’t sure I was ever going to find. Before you, “right” just meant things weren’t horribly wrong, it meant that I still saw something worth clinging to. It was a word I fought to associate with. Before you, “love” was cheap. It was simply attraction and affection. It was well-meaning and hopeful. It was desperate and heartbreaking.

Before you, I struggled to foster connections; I struggled to create comfort; I struggled to imagine what security would feel like; I struggled to make things right; I struggled to love.

Before you, I tried to decide which of these words, these values I could give up, which factors I could compromise to find my future. Before you, I fought for futures I should have let go. I’m so glad I finally let them all go, so glad I finally shut those doors and cautiously opened the door that you strolled through.

You. You are right. You are so good. You, my dear, are love.


A Declaration

I’m no stranger to the declarations of attachments never-ending
— to attractions uncomprehending. I’m no stranger to the falling
and I’m thankful, oh so thankful for the lessons learned from love lost
but oh how I wish this had been the first, the only time I’d meant it.
Darling, as we laid there with the street lights speckling our faces,
the corner of your mouth curling as your secrets spill from wary lips,
I knew this was different. You are different. I am different with you
in the best ways. In the only ways that matter. I want you my dear,
more than I’ve ever wanted this thing, this closeness and possibility.
To say I have high hopes doesn’t touch the closest of these dreams.
Words make no mark comparable to my affections. They lack the means
to express the rate and the height from which I’m tumbling into you.