I didn't understand it.
The motions that it would take to sink so far, so ankle-deep, that it'd be impossible to fall.
I tried, doe-eyed in bed to understand with my eyes. To see through something fleshy and beautiful, but I couldn't and the afternoon burned away without waiting for me.
I still tried to understand the new level you had reached, the realization...what it must feel like to be hit by a feeling as heavy as a brick or a sack of flour.
It seemed like as my cuts healed and turned to roseate etches, I was finding new things to love. Not healed, no, not reveling in a new self image or sense of structure...just discovering.
I think it hit me as I watched us in the mirror, readying ourselves for the day. You, washing your face in your hands, and me with a toothbrush sticking sideways out of my mouth.
I realized it; how my head always seems to know how to sit on your chest. How, I can curl into your shape and feel like the world can wait. It can just wait, and nothing bad will ever happen here, right here.
I think I started knowing while wearing your over-sized plaid shirt to bed. Wearing it, taking it off, letting it hang off of me. Vulnerable. Waking up in it loose around my bare body and you, looking at me in mid-morning light through tired lids. Those lids. So tired, so over-worked, but willing to stay open, to hold my gaze no matter what.
There are things I was waiting to understand, things I knew I understood, and things I never wanted to.
And then it hit me.
Magic.