it’s morning yet the loneliness feels less smothering

she lives in the future, but her presence is in the here and now, her soul is old, spread across me like this blanket covered in lions across my bed, warm and familiar with a hint of promises to come true

it is soothing to be draped in the mist of the fresh morning, the skies above a brilliant pink cast hue with hints of promise, the wind carrying the subtle promise of warmth, but making no guarantees

i sit in that brisk moment with the remnants of dream still clinging just enough that the bitter coffee seems like the tide of wakefulness slowly rising to cover my soles, yet the memories of what once played out permeates my soul

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