Reminiscing on warm mornings being woken up from the sun, excited to remember you are lying next to me. I study your chest gently rising up and down.
It’s these moments when you’re still sleeping I feel most enamored. You make me love the small things, like the steadiness of your breathing.
What are the chances of you wanting to stay forever? I love how you warm my bed.
Somehow the lingering thought of you dreaming of others has me feeling alone again.
When was the last time I was the first thing on your mind?
Page artwork; In Bed The Kiss by Henri De Toulouse Lautrec
Nunca Te Calles 
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