Sunday Mornings Without You.

It was beautiful when we fell in love, but I must admit, the best days are unfolding. In due process, we have grown and learnt to live in love. Through action and intention, and most importantly through consideration. Through words of endearment that have come to replace our names.

Our predictable patterns! Social psychology riddles that, as lovers are bound by the flame of intimacy, communication could fade into the comfort of the non-verbal. One could predict the other’s needs by the smile on their face... by depth in the gaze behind their eyes.

Predictable patterns! Like how we take turns spooning at unpredictable hours of the night without losing an ounce of sleep.

It's a beautiful Sunday morning, but sadly, a Sunday morning without you. The smell of freshly brewed coffee lingers in the air. Our predictable patterns! I reached out for your favorite mug, my lips carefully tracing where your lips used to rest. I took a sip over the hot brim just to course your taste through my veins.