Morning Coffee

She ties her hair with one hand,

my hand in her other, and I swear the morning sun waits just to grace her face She hums off-key in the kitchen, burns the toast, laughs at the smoke like she knew this would happen, yet she's so unbothered by it She folds the laundry like she’s placing rain into clouds soft, thoughtless movements that feel like home. No diamonds, no grand entrances, just chipped mugs and mismatched socks, and the way she looks at me like I’m something that she always wanted. She doesn’t try to be beautiful. with her undone hair, tired eyes, she makes the driest days smell like it just rained and the way she listens, like the world only speaks through me she didn't arrive as something I would see coming she crept in with the quiet mornings shared playlists, and her changing her clothes, as I pretend not to stare. And if I ever forget what love is, I'll think of her in sweatpants, asking me if it's okay if she uses the shower Because that that's where my forever lies