11/26/2017 come back to bedI miss the morning when I didn’t have to miss you
you always woke up before me. most mornings I would open my eyes to you pulling me closer, others I would wake to the creaking of floorboards as you snuck to the kitchen to make coffee. “come back to bed” I would mutter as I felt your weight leave the mattress. I would look at you through tired eyes as a soft chuckle escaped your lips. you always came back and took me in your arms, every bend of our barely-awake bodies fit perfectly together as if we were carved from the same stone. we would spend hours in a mess of sheets and half-full cups of coffee, watching the colors of the sky rearrange through gaps in the curtains. I miss the way you would wake me up. but there were rare mornings when I would wake up to you still sleeping. I would roll over, expecting to find you not-so-subtly watching me, but instead I turned to face your closed eyes and slightly parted lips. I loved these mornings, seeing you so still, so unaware tempted me to stay awake forever. it made me realize why you’re a morning person: because dawn holds the moments you can’t explain. it was 5 am when I looked at you and told myself “I want these mornings forever" Comments are closed.
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