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Morning
It still surprises me when you're the person I wake up to. I don't know why; maybe I'm still waiting for you to run away like everyone else. All I know is waking up to you beside me makes my day even though it's barely started. You're usually awake before me, but awake is an inaccurate description because you're in that barely-awake state that makes you look like you're made out of blurred lines and soft edges. And I love this, because your touch is gentle and lazy on my sensitive skin; but also because you always stare at me with half-lidded eyes, like I'm a creature you're afraid to break. Morning has always been my favorite time of day, because the sun has just risen and everything looks new and beautiful, especially you. Not only are you made of blurred lines and soft edges, but you skin is made of honey and your eyes of amber and gold. You make me forget about all of the ragged tears in the fabric of my life and make me feel like a lovesick puppy. You make me feel beautiful, like I hold a candle to your dazzling flame.
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