mornings where i awake and you're not beside me are the mornings i don't find worth making most of. left with just the bodyprint in my mattress of where you spent the night, the creases in the sheets are just signs that maybe you were real and not just figment of my imagination.

mornings, where i'm awoken by your legs hitting mine and your hair brushing past my nose, these are the mornings worth waking up for. i'd stare at you a little while, smile and budge a long giving you room to move. i'd awake you with the smell of bacon noisly sizzling from the pan.

but most mornings i wake up and realise, you were never there to begin with.