The Morning After

I wake up in the morning to find an imprint in the sheets. I run my hands through the space of where an angel used to be. Her scent still on my pillow. Sweet Chanel No. 5. A light blue stain left from the shadow that covered her wild eyes. Heaven shines its light through my window and clears the darkness from this place. I fear she may have left too soon to recount all of her mistakes. She may have tip toed across the room while I laid in bed asleep. Strong enough to leave me dry but to say goodbye, she's much to weak. I call her name, wait 3 seconds, yet I still get no reply. Just face it she's gone. Move on and live your life. But something caught my eye. Something I'd seen the night before. It's the same black bra that was ripped from her body and thrown onto the floor. A few feet away I spot the pile of her clothes just as the smell of bacon dances its way to my nose. To the kitchen I go, following the scent in the air. And like a wish had been granted my angel was standing there. She's in my shirt, my favorite shirt. The one with the rolled up sleeves. Somehow it looks better on her then it will ever look on me. She let her hair down and it drags just beneath her shoulders' tip. One arm flips the pan while the other rests upon her hip. My eyes seem broken and are fixed upon her forever long legs. She turns around, catches me staring, laughs, and says "how do you like your eggs?" Like an actor on stage I react to this cue. I grab her body, pull her close, and whisper " I want you." She giggles and on her face a smile begins to grow. She says "I want you too. More than you'll ever know." I throw her arm around my shoulders and carry her body in my arms. I make a dash to the bedroom. Turn off the phone. Unplug the alarm. The drapes now cover the light that heaven did provide and we'll now dive in the sheets where our bodies will hide. I'll borrow her heart and my soul I will lend. And when the next 'morning after' comes we'll do it again.