Sleep

I can't relax.  Ever.  I don't know what it feels like to just exhale and let go.  I'd give anything to let go of this breath I've been holding for more than 29 years, sink down onto the ground, close my eyes and sleep the most beautiful and most peaceful sleep of my life.

I'd like to crumble to the ground next to you sitting under that old oak tree over there.  You've got one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee.  You see me coming so you reach up and pull me down to you, letting me settle my head there in the space between your stomach and your thigh.  We don't say anything at all.  Your arm comes down to rest across my belly, the warmth of your skin soaking through my t-shirt, spreading to the rest of me until I drift off right there in your lap under that old oak tree.

I'd like a sleep like that.