Sleep drunk you curl into me,

mutter half a sentence,

and slip away again.

These mornings,

where the sun sneaks in

past the darkness of the blinds

to trip across the covers

in soft waterfalls of light

I latch my legs into yours,

find a rib to cling to,

tuck my head into the hollow

beneath chest and chin

and let myself breath


unworried by the tussle of hair,

rumple of sheets,

tangle of chores waiting downstairs,

I lie here with you.

Daily Prompt: Messy



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