I often wonder, does she know how the night finds its peace amidst the cities cacophony when she silently falls asleep. How her face lights up in her dreamy world, in the mid road of her consciousness and unconsciousness. Of the utopian fantasies in her slumber, and how they manage to make her look so serene and beautiful as the stars sing their unheard lullabies. How slowly and wholly her smell is spilled thoughout the sheets we lay covered in and how it insists on lingering for those difficult times when she's not around. Does she know how her messed up hair falls on her face and how her nose twiches as I carefully tuck them back. Or her sudden sleepy humming, half awake and half asleep. Does she know how tirelessly her naive soul glows or how the slight curving of her lips in content and peace makes the world brighter even in the darkness. Does she know how she holds on to me with her loosening grip and how it binds us into one. I can sit up all night looking at her and with every passing second I could tell myself a thousand times why we are the way we are and this is how we are meant to be. Wrapped up in each other, woven together like the fabrics of the sheets we lay covered in. Like the smoke of the only candle that burns, curling together into one and dancing away while the world is busy running in its own pace.