When you need an excuse not to get up in the morning

When you need an excuse not to get up in the morning,

fall asleep with many things on top of you.

A heavy, soft duvet.
A half-eaten snack your past self left for your future self.

Perhaps a flaky pastry leaving landmines of itself in your sheets.

A tall glass of ice water — left next to you, best not on top of you.
Your phone, playing the podcast you’ve been meaning to finish.
Your laptop, warm with a film streaming or half-written philosophies.
A book that refused to let you sleep, a real page turner.

And maybe best of all,
someone you love, pressed close.
Arms heavier than a duvet.
Traces of him threaded across your bed, more than any pastry.
Spit better than a glass of water at night.
Pillowtalk that becomes sleep,
that becomes sweet talk in the morning.

How come everything I write turns into a love-letter for you, lately?