Reminiscing on warm mornings being woken up from the sun. There’s a familiar rush of excitement when I feel that you are lying next to me. I’m patiently waiting for you to wake, studying the rhythm of 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 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
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