I wake up with a question
Every day I wake up with a question, an Are you there? lingering on the soft patch of muscle in my mouth. I remember waking up to you, the smell your body fell into while you were sleeping, the heaviness of a limb on mine, the kind of warmth that only a human body can give. Every day I wake up with the mild bitterness of memories asked to pause, the saltiness of your skin, the sticky sweet of sweat between us, my body folded into yours.
Before I even open my eyes.
