I've been hungry since I woke so early this morning.
But I've put breakfast off and thought of you instead.
And why not? Though you can't fill my stomach.
And my heart may swell when I hear your voice,
but your voice doesn't keep it beating.
We hug and contort our legs so that the space between is negligible.
If we didn't I could just stay warm with a blanket and pillow.
You give me ideas I wouldn't of thought of, possibly, but had you not
said those things I would probably have other inspiring thoughts.
Had you never walked into class and sat like a princess who had
lost her riches. And if you never saw in me what few others have.
Had you never given me the clues, or worn those nursing shoes, or talked
so boldly about your sexual escapades and sworn off those who cared to argue.
Had you never done those things I would probably be downstairs. I would be
eating a bowl of cereal and drinking a tall glass of orange juice.
And even now I just think about how much you hate orange juice.
I would have the tallest glass, maybe even refill it.
I really like orange juice.
And cereal is good too.
But these days I can't help but prefer a nice breakfast for two. So, though I woke up with the sun this morning, I think I'll wait just a bit for you.
You look too peaceful to wake and I know you stayed up late, as did I.
I never liked sleeping with my chest to your back, because it's a bit uncomfortable and your hair is like a furnace in the summer.
This morning, though, I feel like this position is in order, at least, until you wake.
Then we can eat.
