Sweetheart

Just like every good romance novel,
I dreamt of you last night.
What happened, I'll never tell,
for I only recall little glimpses of your face
and the endless butterflies
you bring me.
What I do remember substantially
is driving on a long road,
falling asleep next to you,
feeling at peace again,
waking up three separate times to the thought of:
"Remember this. I want to tell him
when he wakes up."
I may have failed at what I wanted
to do,
but I didn't fail at feeling
that pleasant warmth you
give me.