I grew accustom to awaiting your arrival each morning.
Hearing my dogs alarming barks as you would approach the door
as I lie in bed pretending to sleep.
The energy, the life you brought upon and within me would surge deep inside of my rapid beating heart as your footsteps approached my closed door.
You were always so gentle as you would turn that copper handle, trying desperately not to wake me
as you'd let yourself into my peaceful, quiet world of "sleep."
I never minded the disturbance, because the disturbance you caused meant I was that much closer to fluttering my tired eyes open to your perfection.
Those mornings, the mornings when you would surprise me with your presence,
come crawling in next to me, softly brushing the ratted hair from my puffy face, whispering, "Good morning, beautiful,"
The mornings that don't exist anymore were the only times I've ever felt truly beautiful in my own, sleep deprived skin.
*jm