romanticize our problems
until they are colored in pink and purple hues
baby blue mornings filled with you
fantasize our perfect life together
what if reality is the fake
coffee, music, and solitude can be found
any Saturday safely in your arms
awoken by kisses soft and gentle
until clothes end up getting lost somewhere
dancing around the living room
in our pajamas, without masks on
I wish this was still true
but this is not reality, this is not truth
this is me romanticizing past loving
like dreaming of Paris in the rain