Pancakes
and french toast.

She had a sweet tooth
for mornings
laying flat
on her back.

Just like yours,
cotton wrinkles
indented on
freckles.

Saliva soaked
collarbones,
last nights
tequila
on your tongue.

He’d roll you over,
breakfast taco.
Kiss your neck,
turn it purple.

Smirk covered coffee,
smoke lingering
'round
chocolate covered
sleepy eyes.

All you've ever known,
simple sweets
and bacon grease;
she kept you
on your'
toes.

"I'll be back for the summer,"
and he'll pretend
you’re more
than just a morning
of goodbyes.

the sun is out, babe
it's spread out on our bed sheets
the streaks of daybreak
blazed up on our skin

your freckled face in daylight
a burst of stardust around your eyes
i count them to make me feel alright
you look away to give up a fight

you lift your coffee mug to your lips
gulping down the morning brew
i leave kiss marks down your fingertips
and catch a whiff of fresh coffee, too

i cant wait for the day,
i wake up in the morning
     to my baby jumping on my bed.
and i open my eyes,
already laughing.
anf i smell the burning
of toast, while listening
to steps down the hall
to my room.

he walks in,
and i realize
my life is finally,
what ive always
     wanted it to be.

He became
My pillow
My blanket
My air.

He became
My lips
My smile
My thoughts.

He became
My tease
My hand
My hold.

He became
My 3 am laughter
My 4 am kiss
My 5 am Sunlight.

Do you ever wake up some mornings and think, "Man, this *****, I'm a huge loser?"

Yes?


Well then,

Keep dreaming kid.

Plain oatmeal and coffee
Don't taste the same anymore,
blankets and cold feet
I no longer feel...
Mornings...

Plain oatmeal and coffee
Used to be the highlight of my day,
kitchen sounds, soft music... laughter
they no longer exist...

Plain oatmeal and coffee
cold kitchen floor
messy hairs up in a bun...
Memories...

Plain oatmeal and coffee
your soft skin
reading books at the table
Your eyes looking at mine
All that is gone...

Plain oatmeal and coffee...
The taste is now bitter
The smell makes my stomach ache...
the sounds of the kitchen... they hurt

And even though I pray
For all of it to vanish from my brain,
Plain oatmeal and coffee
Is all that I wish for again...

Waking up to the smell of cooking breakfast was the best thing in the world to her.
The bed would be empty, but she'd know where he was.
She'd roll off a bed and throw on the nearest t-shirt, even if it wasn't hers, and stretch, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
She'd take a deep breath and look out the window.
She'd see cars driving by and children up and running.
She'd leave the room to find him in the kitchen, humming some old rock song.
She'd smile and hug him from behind, but he wouldn't jump; he knew it was her.
He'd turn and plant a kiss on her forehead and maybe on her cheeks.
He'd tell her good morning and pull her in close.
She'd nuzzle into his chest and mumble a reply.
He'd laugh and smile.
She'd look up into his eyes and know she found it.

She found home.

Morning rituals--
Crap! I overslept, coffee,
and contemplation.

These bed sheets formed hills out of your curves,  and
             I leaned in to place my lips gently, on yours
like morning dew that sits on a blade of grass, and a  

ZAP!

came from the build up

                                of electric charge

A half smile and a frown,
        I stopped you from using your hand to soothe the pain from your lips, and kissed you  instead

In a room filled with natural light
You shone the brightest


The wind whistles and tree branches with ice filled cracks, breaks trying to dance with the wind.

And we were warmed knowing

        That on cold days we were not alone


.....and no it's not selfish that you stole the duvet and wrapped yourself into a cocoon.

Jan 7th. 2016