After Love

She felt like summer when she lay on me, her weight comforting like the thick warmth of a heat wave. She was all deep breaths and laughter caught in her throat as she made herself snug against me. Her hair was ticklish against my nose, cut short so the tight curls bounced upright from her skull in a halo. I could feel her hands move against the fabric, searching for the grasp of mine and I heard the happy hum as she found it and squeezed tight. I smiled into the curls, nestling into the web of dark hair. She was blissful, content, and all too well-loved, so I placed my lips to her temple and proclaimed she was mine.