summer’s november.

Today I stayed in my pajamas. My heart hurt too much to acknowledge summer.
Today, inside this chest, this heart, it’s november.
Turn the sprinkler on against the window, play make believe.
Nothing feels real anyway.

I daydreamed us tangled in white sheets, dull grey light streaming in. The kind that calls us outside for a coffee and a walk down by the beach. The kind that folds itself into the soft crinkles around your eyes. It’s sometime in the late morning. We lose track, entangled all day. We dance around the apartment in our underwear. You stand at the window and I come up behind you and wrap my arms around your warm waist. My head fits in between your shoulder blades. Our bodies rise and fall together.

I daydreamed us in the kitchen, cooking breakfast, bumping into each other. Tiny spaces, good excuses to kiss against the fridge. We run down the street for the fresh fruit we forgot. Lose our breath, fill our lungs with laughter. The day turns into night, I miss my train on purpose. You cover me with a blanket, and kiss my cheek. One day into one sleep into one whole weekend, always within arm’s reach of you. You wake me up with a flower on my cheek. All these things at once. All love.

I never accepted how beautiful I felt waking up at your place. No makeup, hair a mess, in your sweatpants. I saw the way you looked at me on those mornings, but I wouldn’t let myself believe it.

Instead I drank earl grey with milk and ate butternut squash soup and lay on the couch under a blanket watching movies all day and hoped that one day you’d be the softness I was leaning into.