You should start each day inside me

You find something dangerously cute about the way those eyes hold yours before the day has even begun, pulling you in before you've had a single thought of your own.

You feel the warmth radiating off that body like an invitation you didn't know you needed, soft skin still carrying the heat of sleep, close enough that your breath catches before your mind catches up.

You already know this is the kind of morning that ruins you for ordinary ones — the kind where you reach out first, where need speaks before words do, where the day starts exactly where it should.