I want to be able to drink coffee with you first thing in the morning, before we see anyone else
sometimes i think about foggy mornings, right after a night of heavy rain. i think about the buzz of an alarm going off at 5am, pulling a blanket over my shoulders, and feeling the numbness of sleep leave my feet as they touch the hardwood floor. i think about the smell of white wine, left overnight in a thin glass on my kitchen counter. i think about my best friends, following my footsteps: rolling out of my bed minutes after me, a blanket draped over their shoulders, mumbling “good morning” to nothing and everything. i think about dimly lit cooking sessions and breakfasts on glass plates… granola and peaches and almond milk on the balcony. i think about being huddled close with the people i love, all soppy eyed and drowsy, bare legs tangled, watching the sun rise. i think about many tommorows from now, where i’m content and happy and alive.