Mornings

Something about mornings hardly exist

Slipping through are sleepy smiles

soundless sighs, drifting in and out of sleep

Meeting each other’s hazy eyes

There was nothing to pierce serenity

only the reserved smell of fresh linen and

sunlight landing on warm hands;

a sight winking in and out of consciousness

I could not say if it was my imagination

A lingering taste, sweet with memories

of the quiet moments of before

when words were swapped like honey

But through stiff limbs and half-forgotten memories

I wanted something that hardly exists,

To never fade

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