Among the blunt edged jagged duvet hillocks of my unmade languorous bed, I woke to a morning already made into a phenomenon.
When the rustling wind carried with it from virtual plateaus a voice tinged with copper smoked in ooze of amber syrup, it did so in a wave of caramel tides, settling ever so gently in a breath of velvet utterance on my person.
Besieging a morning aura of stoic pessimism, it managed to jackknife into satiny slashes of infinite sighs.
Ah, morning. Why don't you come to me like so every day.
Hearts 💕
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