It is morning and you are reading the paper, in your boxers, metal t-shirt and dressing gown. Your long curls ruffled around your face, falling down over your shoulders. The cafetiere of coffee steams away gently by your side, caught in the spring-morning sunshine. I lean down and cup your face, pulling your little frown out of your paper to kiss between your eyebrows. My heart bursts at your smile, you turn back to your paper and I reach for the coffee. It is morning, I don’t know when, but I am settled. This home is ours. I am content and ready for anything, with you.
I do not think like this.
I cannot think like this.
It is night, I am here and you are not and I am in love.