My Morning Valentine

It was late, but early in the morning. The telly kept him company, but like everything, it came to an end.

To the room he went next. And as he peered through his window grills that drew that fine line between captivity and freedom, he felt this icy cold. It wasn't a nasty icy cold, but more of a relieving icy cold. An icy cold that gently skimmed on his skin, leaving a relieving sensation. It's rare to feel sensations like this, as it isn't always this early that he goes to bed. And so it brought a meaningful sensation with it.

He stood there, reminiscing the nights where he could just ring someone up, anyone, and just meet them up in the wee hours of the new day and just stroll round the dead streets. He felt this urgent need just to be out there taking it all in, rather than being in his room. It was more of a need for him, and he didn't mind doing it all by himself. It would have been nicer though if he could share it with someone. Certain things he loves sharing it with people rather than having it all to himself, certain things he'd rather have it to himself. This wasn't the latter.

And so he sat, and thought of what to do. That's when he decided, to write this for you.

My morning valentine, my everything.
Morning, my valentine.