In a perfect world, mornings would be my favourite part of the day, even during the week when I'd need to wake up early.
I imagine a huge, cozy room with cream-coloured wallpaper, enormous windows, overlooking the city, near a park, so instead of the noises of the traffic, every morning, the only sound coming from outside would be that of the little birds hiding in the lush green of the trees.
As I wake and come to my senses slowly, I roll over, stretching my arms and legs, only to find you beside me. Half asleep you smile and pull me close to your warm body and your ever-cold feet brushing against mine. I giggle as I try to pull it away, covering them with the blanket.
I almost fall back asleep as you hold me in your arms, my fingers tangled up in yours, skin on skin under the thin covers.
I turn around to see your sleepy face. With fully closed eyes you smile and sigh my name under your breath. Then, as you slowly open your eyes you give a soft kiss on my forehead.
I love your face in the morning (and always). Those deep hazel eyes, lighting up and glowing in the fresh sunlight. And your voice. That sleepy, adorable sound you make to tell me that you won't let me go, even when I plead to be allowed to.
As you pull me back when I try to get out of bed I roll over and bury my fingers in your soft curly hair which somehow always gets messy, even during the day, not to mention after sleep. I kiss you on your cheek and run my hands down along your shirt to remind myself how lucky I am to be the one touching you.
I get out of bed in your t-shirt and underwear and make my way into the kitchen to make some breakfast. Coffee for me, while watching you roll your eyes with slight disapproval, and tea for you and something to eat.
During a quick breakfast we would talk, tell each other about our plans for the day and what we dreamt. Then getting ready, leaving the apartment. Our apartment. Knowing that whatever happens, we have each other and these magical early mornings together. And with that thought, the world seems a little less lonely.
YOU ARE READING
You hold my heart (still)
Poesíaour little mythology A collection of short poems and prose I've been working on these for the last two years, and finally felt good enough to collect, rewrite and edit it, so here we go. I'm finally done. And moved on. New chapter coming.
