Sweet nothings, you call them. The Sun’s arms
reaching through my window to wake me at dawn.
Rolling over to see a bright light in my face, a “good
morning” from him. A steamy waterfall pouring warmth
all over me like a heated blanket as I wash off the day
before. Salty scrambled egg pillows soaring into my mouth.
A peaceful stroll on the journey to class. Music speaking directly
to my soul, as if the lyrics were written just for me. Flowers
from him on the porch, a welcomed symptom of long distance.
Breakfast for dinner because, why not? Crawling into my
cave with fuzzy socks and a good book in hand. Drifting into
a deep slumber, dreaming of those fictional characters I’ve
come to know so well. Doing it all over again the next day.
Sweet nothings, you call them. Sweet everythings, I crave them.
Copyright © Emma Garelick | Year Posted 2019