the rare kind

i smell like a home cooked meal straight out of my mother-in-laws kitchen. its a smell that intoxicates you with warmth and memories of laughter and a new addition to the family you've always had. as i  lay here in my gray bed, i am finding that my limbs are exhausted and my brain is slowing. my heart rate is rested and night owls - the rare kind that sleep - are beckoning for my companionship. its quaint. but my lover isn't yet in bed so my eyes cannot rest until i've snuggled him into his twitching sleep coma. for being a day of rest, i always feel so warn of exertion at the end of this day. its funny how little things like that pan out over the weeks.