morning light.
wrinkled sheets.
mascara stains.
a lack of words.
brewing coffee.
The Weeknd lightly playing in the background amidst a running bath-
smoke gliding off his tongue while his finger tips run down my spine
every morning feels like Sunday morning...
and it's only Tuesday.
you are far from perfect,
but to me,
to me you are perfect.
tc
10/2015
