You are Monday mornings,
breathless; exhausting.
And I,
I am hues of blue,
shades of red;
deep and sunken in.
You are the stream of light
peeking through my curtains
beckoning to me:
*"Wake up tenderly.
The sun will not wait
for you."*
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
You are Monday mornings,
breathless; exhausting.
And I,
I am hues of blue,
shades of red;
deep and sunken in.
You are the stream of light
peeking through my curtains
beckoning to me:
*"Wake up tenderly.
The sun will not wait
for you."*
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