I’ll carry you to bed. I’d like to do that. Your weight against my shoulder, tru

I’ll carry you to bed. I’d like to do that. Your weight against my shoulder, trust as you nestle against me. I’d like you to be half awake, my hand in your hair, keeping you safe. I’d like you to be ok with that, to be aware, but not conscious. I’d like you not to think about it too much. It’s less the groom bringing the bride boisterously into the consummation chamber, as terrifying, clumsy and ridiculous as that image is. It’s something far more paternal, only without all of the issues that arises. The position isn’t one of supplication, but instead just happy surrender. You in my arms, a sleeping weight.  I’d like to think you’d curl up out of some reflex the instant I settle you down on the covers. Maybe you even suck your thumb. I’d like to think that vulnerability can come off of a person in waves, and you can be floored even while they’re drifting off. I’d like you to be that person, and I’d like to see your vulnerability. I want to see you sleep.  And once you’re gone, I want to tuck you in. I’d like that. -- source link

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