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Morning Rythm

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I wake up and feel a pair of strong arms around me. I smile, turning towards the owner of those arms. His gold hair is sticking up all over the place, his light lavender purple eyelids closed. There's a smile on his face. I spend a few more minutes reveling in the warmth of his embrace, the warmth of his worn out t-shirt, his strong muscles against my back and wrapped around my waist. I lace my fingers through his hair, the soft velvet of it intertwines around them, caressing all the folds and lines of skin. He doesn't wake up, just breaths a soft sleepy sigh. His smell is like nothing else in the world, sort of like the sun. I breathe it in gratefully and just sit there comfortably, feeling his ribs and chest fall up and down with the rhythm of his breath. My feet are touching his, our toes face to face. This moment is perfect and still, the sun rising outside my window. The world isn't awake yet. It's just us in our own little secret place, and it seems like it could never end. Memories of the night before flood into my mind, and I let them come, closing my eyes again and watching them like television, grinning. I open my eyes again and there are his staring at me. Wonderful forests of jade green, flecked with gold and framed with the most wonderful eyelashes in the world. He smiles at me, I smile at him. This moment seems like what my whole life has been leading up to. I feel clean, whole, cleared of any worry, imperfection or nagging feeling. There are no thoughts running through my head but how perfect he is.
"Good morning, Beautiful." He says, and for the first time in my life, I feel beautiful because I actually feel like myself. I don't always feel that way, or even very often, but I feel that way now. When somebody just loves you for everything you are, and when you make somebody happy, when you make them smile, you suddenly, out of the blue, feel like the most beautiful person in the world.



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