I run my hands through my hair and yawn myself awake as I do every morning before I stumble into my slippers and head towards my worn out coffee machine.
This morning was different, I reach for the last coffee pod, but she beats me to it.
I woke up in our house, the first night we had spent together in our first house together. I wasn’t in the comfort of my own bedroom any more, it was ours.
Every morning I look to my left to see her smile at me as she leans her head against my chest making it even harder to get out of bed.
Her rosy red cheeks and pale porcelain skin glowed as it always did in the light streaming from the blind-less windows.
I hate to take my eyes off of her, following her long hair as it spreads down her face and across both our pillows.
She is kind, caring and has a personality that fills an empty room.
She is unique and puts a smile on my face without saying a word.
She is my reason to keep going and the rope that holds me together.
This woman is my obsession, I think about her every night before I fall asleep, every spear second I get through the day and she is the first thing that crosses my mind in the morning.
She is the woman I fell in love with and she’s all mine.
I am the one she cares about most, I pick her up when she’s down and would go to the ends of the earth to protect her.
I am the one that gets to show her off in public and take her on vacation.
I am the one that can’t wait to see her when I finish work.
I am the one that wakes up every morning with her in my arms.
I am the one that yawns himself awake before stumbling into my slippers and heading to my worn out coffee machine before she beats me to the last pod. I am her man.