idk if i can call this poetry

1:47am

a breakfast wish.

i mean, eating a granola bar this late at night doesnt exactly count as breakfast,
but ill say its close enough because i dont actually eat breakfast anyways.

i wish for a winter sunday morning,
waking up with messy hair.
a hoodie and fuzzy pants.
stretching and debating whether or not to get out of bed.

you arent next to me.
i smell bacon.

i get up and stumble into the kitchen, rubbing the tiredness from my eyes.

you are in a robe and you have a spatula. we both have sundays off work.

"good morning honey!" you half whisper brightly.
you know i dont like loud noises when i first wake up. i sit down.

"mmmmm. food smell good," i mumble. you abandon the food for a moment and come up behind me. you wrap your arms around me. i lean into you. you smell like you. my favorite scent in the world.

i sink into you, but after a moment you return to the food. i rest my chin on my hand and watch you work.

all is well on this sunday winter morning.

all is well because i have you.