#0101
How can I be jealous of the simple act of making a cup of tea?
I have no right,
But as you fill the kettle this morning,
My heart aches with the brevity of this morning,
As you flick the switch,
I try to switch off,
As you lean against the worktop, lost in your thoughts,
I want to get lost in you,
The warmth in your hands as you climb the stairs and push open the door,
The cold has crept into my bed, reminding me that you're not here.
I hope she appreciates you.
I do.