Again, I wake
to the concept of you.
Your face—I've forgotten—
but those party lights (blue),
danced in your eyes (soft),
caught on your lips (curled),
in an oh-so-cinematic way—
I thought moments like these
only existed in movies.
That gaze—
three seconds,
a secret suspended between us:
your smirk (knowing),
my smile (confessing)—
I wish those seconds
could have stretched (forever).
Now morning spills
across my sheets—
And still I'm metabolizing
the concept of you.