when, quiet and unkempt, your hands
reach for me under the blankets, your voice
husks my name in the grey dawn.
I love you best in the morning
and the warm weight of you, heavy-handed,
pulling me back to your arms and your heart,
the crush of your sweet, simple need.
I love you best in the morning with your nose
in the crook of my neck, with your lips
against the pearl of my ear.
I love you best in the morning when we
start our days with a rejection
of the wrench of parting: five minutes more,
stay. I just want
to stay here with you like this. Stay.
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