Cocooning

Neither of us
bothering to properly dress,
fuzzy-eyed
and still undeodorized,
we indulge in
the luxury of calling today’s
first meal
a fashionable brunch,
even if just
honey on cinnamon toast.

The cold has
drained ambition’s battery,
but burrowed
inside this snug cocoon,
crackling
with static electricity,
we idly decide
not to jump-start the day;
chapped lips
resist temptation’s kiss.

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