I was never the morning type
nor liked eating breakfast
But I always liked
walking around in my boxers
on saturday mornings
feeling the hardwood floor with my barefoot
laugh at my hangover
feel the heat coming through the window
squeeze you oranges
and watch you smile at me,
still in bed
your face on the pillow
sun curled up in your hair
and bedroom still smelled like us.
It’s Thursday
and leaves are turning orange
and you won’t be here to see
you tell me you bought a new sweater
the one that I wanted to buy for you
but I won’t be there to see it.
It’s ok
I smile thinking that you’ll be warm this winter
and I don’t feel like eating breakfast anyway
and life is not too bad.

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