The sunlight pokes its way
between the cracks in my eyelashes
I uncurl her sleeping form from mine
and stand there in the morning light
to look at her
She is epic
the type of woman that men write songs about
or sell their souls to the devil for
for some reason she chose me
I stand there in awe
her eyes flutter open
and she locks my gaze
she smiles and stretches
funny the path life puts before us
the places it goes
and how second best can sometimes
be all you need
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