Good Morning

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Good morning,

Lost stranger

Found in my bed,

Head resting on my pillow,

Dreams melting in

The morning sun.

Who are you?

What are you?

What are you

Doing in my bed?

Would you like 

A cup of coffee?

I shuffle away,

Blanket wrapped

Around my nude form.

I leave because

I need to distance 

Myself from an 

Obvious mistake.

I need to leave

So we can make 

Ourselves decent.

He enters the kitchen,

Scratching his beard.

I push the cup of joe

In his direction.

He grumbles his thanks.

This is a good thing,

He's not a morning person,

Pretty much a zombie,

So I can dismiss him

Without hurting his feelings.

As he sips the coffee,

He reaches across

And interlaces his fingers

With mine, his eyes 

Memorizing every feature 

Of my face. 

Not good!

I pull away and 

Walk to the door,

Hoping he can read

The lines and between the lines.

He looks at me for

A minute which feels like

Five then sighs and grabs 

His jacket. As he passes

Me at the door, he stops

And kisses me gently.

The kind of kiss

That pulls you in,

So tender, so innocent,

So genuine and authentic,

Making you want more.

He pulls away,

Once again he looks at me

For a minute that feels like five

Then walks out the door,

But has he walked 

Out of my life?

When I return to my room,

I find a scrap of paper

On my pillow. 

"Good Morning.

Jaimie, 555-7878."

Good Morning.