I crave you in the most innocent of ways.
You're like my morning refreshment,
that pulls me awake in a single thought of what's to come.
However, you're also my nighttime procrastination,
attempting to not think of time spent before drifting into slumber.

I indulge in the memory in the bright morning,
when I imagine that it is your sleepy smile pressed against mine,
instead of the lipstick stained rim to my coffee mug.
I imagine that it is your breath I am breathing in,
instead of the steam rising from my small cup.

And as I prepare myself for the day ahead,
I envision your arms wrapped meticulously around my hips,
instead of the sweater you always loved to see me wear.
I envision that it is the warmth I used to feel radiate through my inner body whilst watching the slight curve to your smile as you would greet me every daybreak,
instead of my car heater, striving to produce comfort in the early Texas winter.
I envision that it is your voice chorusing along as you strum an assiduously memorized Hallelujah on your guitar
instead of Jeff Buckley emerging through my worn out speakers.

And yet, I spoil myself with the memory of you as I yawn through my afternoon work;
I compromise: just one cup of coffee will keep me mindful.
But I also begin to deplore these sedulously laid out fabrications and daydreams when it's 3 in the morning, and the sun is still asleep and I've just brewed my second cup of you're sweet quality for the day.