Illustration by Sarah Jensen
It’s a silent, exhausted kind of happy.
The drunken current in your head making everything too dim to hear
The clarity when you look up at her, the simplicity of “here she is, I love her.”
Her nose and cheeks are pink as roses, eyes bright from lacking sleep
Soft brown hair sticks in curls to her tired face
She’s gazing off, blinking heavily and swaying a little in melancholy 1 am thought
It’s a spinning, guilty kind of happy
Both of you hanging on to consciousness by a thread
Her beauty in full shine…
You fight to stay awake so she will not walk around the table and read your heart
Go to sleep, you think to her.
Lay your head down, and I will be the artist who paints you and the knight who protects you.
When the time comes I will wake you, and we will make our groggy way home.
It’s a peaceful, in-love kind of happy.