Lonesome

I'm happy.

Contented with the way the sun kissed my forehead in the morning.

Warmed as my fingers curls around my coffee cup.

I am happy.

Believe me.

But...

Do you think I don't imagine coming home to smiles and open arms to wrap me?

I do.

Do you think I don't wish to compare the sunset and stars with someone's eyes?

I do.

Do you think I don't want another's warmth to envelope me on a Sunday morning?

I do.

You just don't know.

Cause I'm happy.

And you believe that.