and wrapping up in their breath.
For brewing a hot pot of expectation
to dip the day in.
Late sleeping, dream-drunk roommates
make the best friends: Peaceful.
Independent. No-maintenance.
No expectations to heel to. No pretending.
Which is great, but still I ache to be somebody's main event;
I, too, want day to break on a budding love story.
But this morning is cold, and meant to be solitary.
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