we lay here together,
the sunlight, just beginning to peak in through the curtains
reflects off your cheek, encircling you in an angelic glow.
a single gentle curl on your forehead is lit gold by the light
acting as a benevolent midas; turning only the purest.
as my fingers softly graze over your skin, you sigh,
almost waking.
I’d never seen the beauty in mornings before you,
always such cold, miserable affairs.
tearing sleep from my eyes,
in a rush to stay on time, always
late.
for me, beauty was always in the evening, the dusk sun
sinking below the horizon and lighting the sky in its pinky rainbow.
as we lay here together,
I can’t begin to remember why I didn’t like mornings.
i know this doesnt seem finished, but ive run out of ideas so any ideas/ constructive criticism would be helpful.
havent written anything in a long time.
thanks.
