It's when you wake up.
It's the first inhalation of breath that brought you back to consciousness.
It's the first physical sensation that occurs,
The first thought that sparks.

It's how you wake up,
be it tangled in another's limbs,
when you kiss despite morning breath and dry lips.
Or be it promising yourself you'll get back to bed as soon as you're able,
Trying to convince yourself you're still stable, and that you'll make it through another day.

These mornings blur recklessly,
I hardly remember who I am.
I am ready to wake up feeling home again.