It's not sleeping together that's the problem: it's the staying awake together thats the real killer.
There's something deadly and dangerous and just damn delicious when you stare into each other's eyes and share your darkest secrets between whispers and soft smiles. There's a calculated risk we all take when we open our hearts to someone new, hoping they hold it closely to their own.
The night stretches out infinitely, consistently, like we've done this a thousand times. Lived a thousand lives. Shared a thousand moments.
I love him in the moment between dead and alive; between dusk and dawn; between his half closed eyes and parted lips, and his hand resting delicately on my wrist.
As the sun tears open the darkness, I am lost in this golden hour. Sunken eyes looking longingly at each other until we blink away the darkness and start anew.
There's a killer in this bed, and it's neither one of us: there's a killer in this bed and it's the space between light and dark.