A chill in his chest

Every night I wake with a start.

Left foot, soft and warm.

Good.

I place my right hand out to touch the crown of her head, soft and warm, a warning snuff with kibble breath.

I reach out sideways and touch her softly snoring person.

She is warm, breathing easy, safe.

I roll over to gaze at her.

She sleeps with a look of concentration on her face. She is always thinking.

Sometimes of me, sometimes of pain, sometimes of things she tells no one.

I turn back on my back and stare up at the ceiling.

I cannot sleep sometimes.

I dream of waking up on terror, her cold beside me. Waking alone to remember she isn't there.

I cannot breath sometimes.

The tightness in her chest causes a tighness in mine.

The shortness of her breath makes me catch my own in fear.

Her short stumbling gate makes me trip over my own feet.

Her smile and laugh heals everything that is broken in me.

My love makes her forget about everything that is broken.

I will be her stregnth and she my will.

Together we will do more than survive this life, we will live it.

I smile to myself and she sighs in her sleep.

I can sleep, I can breath, and I can live, with her.