It would never happen… but a girl can dream.
I must admit I’m jealous of the coffee-stained mug’s brim that gets to meet your sleepy lips every morning. I envy the linens that cling to your embodiment as you embrace your slumber with exhausted sighs that should be escaping you not before bed, but between each deep kiss from which I’d seemingly never let you escape. I bet you wouldn’t need a brush if I could run my fingers through your pillow-styled hair before breakfast. I know there are ghosts in your stomach and demons in your head, but the tenants don’t define the property. All I’m saying is this green ambrosia and infiNetflix would be a lot better, if I could share them with someone cool and I bet that neither friend nor kin of yours finds you as interesting as I do- maybe it’s best we’re thousands of miles apart, I’m tempted enough to lose sleep over you as it is.