I miss you in the morning.

Dear lost lover,

 

I miss you in the morning.

My coffee doesn’t taste right without the hint of

your laugh

that you used to add to it.

The birds don’t sound as good as they used to without

you humming

along with them.

Late Sunday mornings aren’t the same without

you wrapping

me up in the blankets and burying me with

kisses.

The simple bacon and eggs that

you would cook for me on Saturdays

haven’t been made in months.

Your Monday morning coffee mug

hasn’t been touched,

and your Friday morning playlist

hasn’t been played.

I miss watching

you get ready for work on Wednesdays

and listening to

you complain about how

you wished you could

spend more time in bed

with me,

and I miss the Thursday mornings when

we’d sit on the couch and

watch old Full House episodes.

 

-       I visit your grave on Tuesdays.

 

Yours forever,

Taylor

This poem is about: 
Me

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