the sky at night

fireworks in my stomach and eyes

as the not-so-little head on top of my arm

drags it down like a dead weight

with a smile on his face, mismatched eyes peacefully

closed, glasses that he doesn't need lying on

the dresser along with our clothes

crumpled but neatly folded, like always

gentlemen, every single day

dark hair swept gracefully to the side

by my own slender fingers

little snores resonating in the still air

I gaze down at him and smile because

he is perfect

beyond perfect

all I ever need