I wake up, roll over
feel the muscles in my back
fall into each other,
savor every tiny stretch
of my own skin wrapping
around the bones that hold
my slow and buzzing body.
I rustle beneath covers,
legs hugging and holding like lovers.
I begin to do this dance where
my feet rub together like I am swimming
in sunlight.
my fingers reach around
for me,
graze their fingernails across the rolling
hills and valleys of my back.
and that sweetness,
that act of self-compassion,
of enjoying my own euphoric simplicity,
of being,
of waking,
like a slow, sepia-toned love
that spills over into my entire day,
into my every thought,
my every action.
for I spend my mornings writing love letters to the self.
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