he would roll over on crumpled sheets,
kiss my forehead and mumble,
"good morning, beautiful."
i would nuzzle my face in his chest,
and groan,
"do i have to get up now?"
he'd laugh that laugh of his,
"i'll make breakfast."
i'd tumble out of bed with nothing but a tank top.
and not care about the
messy hair,
smudged eyeliner,
or the faded lines that trace my skin.
we'd just be happy.
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