Grandma.

My ears are filled with the sound of your love
Flowing through your veins in the form of a beating heart.
I am enveloped by your warmth,
An abundance of soft skin that was made
For my body to lay on
For my small hands to hold
For my head to rest on when a pillow just won't do.
Lying here, with my body indenting your flesh
In soft waves
It is not hard to pretend that we are one;
It is not difficult to imagine that the world does not exist.

I know no home but you
I know no love but yours
I know no world but this:
You and I,
Lying on a worn couch
Dwindling sunlight filtering through the windows.
You are happy to be napping,
Floating in that place between dreams and reality.
And I am happy to just exist
Resting atop the warmth of your skin,
My head at your breast
Feel barely grazing your kneecaps.

I will lie extra still
(My toes wiggle without my permission)
I will breath extra quiet
(Hiccups threaten to defy me)
I will squeeze my eyes tight
And not move an inch
(Even if my nose is itchy)
Happy to just exist
Resting atop the warmth of your skin,
My head at your breast
Feet barely grazing your kneecaps.

They will see us when they get home.
You will still be napping
I will still be pretending to do the same.
They will comment on our differences:
"They do not look alike."
"They do not act alike."
But I refuse to listen
Holding onto you--Small hands grasping at skin
I refust to take notice.

They do not hear the beating of our hearts
So close to being identical, they may as well be one.
They do not see our lungs
Expanding, contracting, expanding, contrasting--
Breathing together, as if on cue.
They do not feel our skin
My body indenting your flesh
In soft waves.

If I shut them out completely
If I refuse to listen,
It is not hard to pretend that we are one.
It is not difficult to imagine that the world does not exist.

You are my home
And I still pray that you had stayed.