Falling Asleep on His Chest

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It’s strong, solid, soft and hard.

I hear his heartbeat

the rhythm of my life as well as his

tat tat tatting away

slowing with relaxation and comfort.

His heat envelopes me

just as his arms do.

My heart beats with his.

No, it beats for him.

To hear the beat is a ritual.

One sleeps when one is exhausted

or, more profoundly,

when one is comfortable, safe, secure.

In his arms, my head on his chest

I am profound.

 

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