Muscle memory has made our movements
so cyclical

we
tangle ourselves up monthly

entering  each others presences
with our
amens

your back an altar
that I worship at,
your arms the extent of the world that I acknowledge exits
for now

but the sunlight will always find its way
between us on your pillows
and will always rise
sure of its self
that is has picked the right moment because,
it is the golden boy of the family

and you
will always rise sure of the fact
that you must leave
because it is your ritual
to never expose enough to be a full picture

and I will allow myself to learn again
that the sun
is the brighter star here.