Better in the Morning

Everything is better in the morning.

I’m pretty sure my dreams last night were about you

acting like you loved me and stuff,

and I’m sure that had no impact on me

waking up with hope

and cheerily,

after hitting snooze five times,

because those dreams were just too good to stop.

No impact at all.

It’s always hard for me to stop those dreams,

leave the comfort of my made up reality,

and face the world in which

you love me

but not as much as I hope,

never as much as I dream.

Either my heart forgot its aches in the night,

or I dreamed that you loved me,

either way, I’m somehow better in the morning.

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Filed under Love Poems

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