Mornings spent with you consist of dry lips rubbing against each other’s skin as we miss one another’s lips.
As we miss one another’s lips, that’s okay because your lips touching any piece of me is what wakes me up in the morning.
What wakes me up in the morning is watching the sun brush your face with yellows and golds; it is the sun painting the walls of the room with those same colors among your face, as if the world is trying to whisper to me
You have found him.
-Sacred
Book of Hours 