you are slouched against the back of a sofa with your
eyes half-closed, computer on your lap and
legs on the coffee table.

the sunlight from the large windows beside you
kisses just the corner of your forehead–
your neck and torso melt
into the chocolate-colored shadows.

it looks like the kind of morning you want to wake up to.
the kind that whispers in pretty lavender just when you think
there's never going to be another sunrise,
and makes you smush your puffy, tired eyes into a gentle smile.
the kind that puts you in the mood for blueberry pancakes
and piping black coffee, and a peaceful, quiet day at home.

you look peaceful
as the morning sunlight peeks into an apartment
that must be yours now.
it looks like a home.

it looks like a home, and not like the dingy shoeboxes
we lived in before, where you had covered the high hats
with pink sticky notes, complaining about the unnatural light,
and we stepped onto your rickety chair to climb onto your bed, and
ate Korean snacks with the ***** clothes on your floor for company
and comfort.

it looks like a home, complete with decorative pillows
and a lampshade, with tan couches and a coffee table, and
gorgeous natural light kissing the hair
you dyed a different color.

it looks like a home, with a pair of knees next to you
that must belong to someone who cares about you
enough to take a picture of you
on the kind of morning you want to wake up to,
as I still rot in the chocolate-colored shadows.