Sunday Morning

Consciousness comes nuzzling:
Soft-focus warm lips
Overlap, not quite meeting,
And arms, legs, slowly
Glide out as if through water –
You smile, half-dreaming.

Sunlight, the voyeur,
Peeks through the curtain parting.
Time passes silent
In the gentle swell of your
Breathing, lapping at
My body's curving contours.

Gentle fingers on my neck
Trickle down my spine:
Strength rolls under your skin like
Waves breaking the shore.
Our hearts throb bass line whispers
Gently through our chests.

And I wonder how,
This close, our skin keeps us in –
With the slightest lapse,
We'd simply bleed together:
India ink souls
Ballooning on wet paper.