I imagine you, sleeping peacefully next to me on a Sunday morning, white curtains whispering gently to the floor in a soft morning breeze. The sun is rising, light dances across the grey driftwood floor as I watch your chest rise and fall, thinking that it pales in comparison to you your light heart and honey skin and tousled hair. I imagine thinking I deserve this, not in a world far away but in this very existence, I dream of deserving you.