today Sunday morning, calm
light through the fabric brings
its colors to your face
I make you breakfast, orange
juice, rejuvenating last night full
of memory, it's a funny story I
can't write here. Liked when your hair
clumps bedhead on your face and you
think it's messy, but haha, what
messy is yours is to the messy same
in my mind, messy like familiar
sounds and ideas you forgot but
brought with you when you came, I
like how the sun looks when
it bounces off your face. I wrote
you a poem like I promised but
sorry if it's insane