sitting on my deck, half asleep with a cup of black coffee + a cigarette in hand.
this is when i miss you the most.
memories of chilly autumn afternoons when we would sleep in + only attempt to emerge from the covers after a successful romp in the sack.
you'd walk into the kitchen + make me coffee - breakfast if we were feeling adventurous.
i'd sleepily stand there, thinking about how lucky we both were to have something so simple to smile about.
you'd hand my mug off to me as you made your own + i'd struggle to open the sliding glass door with full hands.
i would sit on the bench + light my cigarette, alternating between drags + cautious sips as to not burn my tongue, while my mind wandered to wonderland.
the sound of the sliding glass door jolted me back to reality, which was far more satisfying than the daydreams that swirled through my mind.