It’s a crisp cool morning.
The sun has broken through the constraints
of your blinds.

I wake up from a night of half-awake enveloping security,
pulling me from distance
to as close as our bodies can manage.
My eyes open and I see the lines
of the outside world
interrupting
the perfect canvas of your familiar features.

You wake up with jokes.
The best you;
smiling with teeth,
Teaching the morning sun what it really means
to bring light to a room.

We don’t say much cause there’s not much to say.
The air clear,
like my mind.
You come up from behind.
One arm, then the next.
Cloaking me
in serenity.

You hold me tight.
My eyes close and my lips curl up
like the hair at the nape of your neck
when you haven’t cut it in a while.

This is it.
The feeling of pure, easy, love.
The cessation of thoughts
of anything else but the importance of us
This -
My ideal.

Yours is the future,
Situational perfection,
A world where everything falls into place through a
convoluted combination of calculations and chance.
Where once we hit certain points
you can fully invest in me.

I want what we already had.
You’re future.
I’m memories.