every morning,
i wake with the light
of the sun in my eyes.

it’s a gentle yet sudden wake-up call,
as if the universe is
softly knocking on my window,
politely asking for entry
and barging into my bedroom
before i can allow any reply of admittance.
the newly opened entrance
invites the day ahead of me
to come breezing in,
responsibilities i had disregarded
before i drifted off hours prior
now hanging over me
like a stormcloud.

i turn to my left and think of you,
still silent in your sleep
as the morning begins to begin out west.
the flowers on your dresser
reach out to you,
admiring your beauty just as i am
from two thousand miles southeast.
i hope you’re dreaming of something peaceful.
i hope nothing ever wakes you before you’re ready.

i want nothing more than to be with you in this moment,
staining the blankets in your room with my scent
with every second i’m allotted.
or, i wish you were wrapped up with me in mine,
so that after you leave,
i can look for the similar impressions you’ve made
to preserve the memory of being with you
as perfectly as i can.

“a few more years,” you always say.
i’ve been counting down those seconds
since the moment you asked me to be yours.
saying yes to you was
the easiest decision i’ve made.
beginning to love you
a decade before any knots can be tied
and knowing it’s impossible
to flip the table
where we play the waiting game
is the most difficult feeling i’ll ever know.

but someday,
i’ll wake to the sounds
of you shifting next to me.

my eyes will open,
and yours will inevitably meet them
as you turn to face me.
our cat will jump up onto our bed,
and as snow falls outside
and the subway zips underneath us
below the earth we’ve conquered,
you’ll show me that same smile
that i pledged myself to
all those years ago.

in other words,
i’ll wake with the light
of the sun in my eyes.

and in its warmth,
i’ll find enough to bask in
to last me a lifetime.