Back to Sunday

With a wince, eyes widen,
There is pain, and wonder
as my brain makes sense of the moment
The unmistakable odor of love making
Burrows into my face
Strong from the night, or maybe just a few hours before
Eyes are adjusted able to glance
The sun plays peekaboo through the blinds
As naked flesh and old ink it highlights
A view from the side as you sleep
I adjust for a closer look rolling toward you
Only to find my arm trapped beneath your nape
So I drape my self around your person's
Hoping to be set free but instead my lips meet
The sweet taste of the skin on your arms
Accidently setting off the soothing grind
Of your **** against parts of mine
Causing growth which
Causes poke which
Causes groan and your hands to *****
Causes memory to refresh that it was the night before
Repeating motions practiced routinely
Just slower
More tender
More indulged like it were to be the last time.
Sunday morning has given us its blessing to begin our day
Though the week continues
We toil, stress, and become a wreck
But we know
We can always go back to Sunday

          Love always
              -Alexis-