1 and a half am

i sit here and i let my mind find something to write, because she is sleeping beside me and maybe if i stay here a little longer, she might wake up. she should sleep. she has been awake for 36 hours straight. i doubt she will wake up. she must be deep in her rem cycles. she has not stirred, even when i was on the phone and accidentally laughed too loud, even when my music played softly.

i have not looked at her. if i am to look at her i will see her, and while i may feel nothing, or just a mild fondness, i may also feel the want of waiting, or sitting on the other side of the couch and writing, and digging myself deeper into the hole of tiredness because i want her to wake up and i want to be close to her.

i can look at her, undisturbed. she is breathing. she should be in the sun.