Lost in Your Warmth
Lost in your warmth, even morning feels like a dream. The first light of dawn slips quietly through the curtains, but I hardly notice it — not when you’re here, breathing softly beside me, your presence more radiant than the sun itself. The world outside may be waking, but my universe has already risen with the rhythm of your heartbeat.
There’s something sacred about mornings like this — when silence hums softly in the air, and time seems to pause just to let me memorize you a little longer. Your skin glows faintly beneath the golden haze, and I think of how warmth doesn’t only come from sunlight. It lives in the spaces between us — in the brush of your hand against mine, in the slow curl of your smile, in the quiet way you whisper my name like a promise.
Every second feels tender, like the universe itself decided to hold its breath so we could exist in this fragile, perfect moment. The world outside might be loud, chaotic, and endlessly moving, but here, wrapped in you, I’ve found peace — that rare, steady kind of calm that doesn’t need to be explained.
Sometimes I wonder if love is meant to feel this unreal. The softness of your touch, the way your laughter lingers in my chest long after it fades — it all feels like a dream I never want to wake from. Even morning, usually the symbol of beginnings, feels like an extension of the night’s magic when you’re near. Maybe that’s what love truly is: the ability to blur the line between dreams and reality, until both feel like home.
Your warmth has become my gravity — the quiet pull that anchors me, the comfort that keeps the cold of the world away. It’s in the way your arms wrap around me without a word, as if to remind me that no matter where life leads, I’ll always have a place to return to. It’s not just the warmth of your body; it’s the warmth of your soul, glowing steady and true.
I think of how easily the world rushes by — how often people forget to pause, to feel, to simply be. But in your embrace, everything slows down. I find myself tracing invisible constellations on your skin, feeling as though I’m rediscovering the stars. Maybe that’s what being lost in love means — not losing yourself, but finding pieces of your soul reflected in another person’s heart.
So yes, even morning feels like a dream — not because I’m asleep, but because with you, reality is more beautiful than anything my mind could ever imagine. And as the sun climbs higher, painting us in light, I silently thank whatever force of fate led me here — into your warmth, into this gentle dream that feels
like forever.
