Those days when we have
Nothing to do and
Nowhere to be.
No alarm clocks,
light sun thru the windows.
Sheer curtains.
Rolling around in these sheets.
Your arms
My breasts
Going and going
We’ll never get sick of it.
Love making marathons.
Phones on airplane mode.
Every delight
Every sacred, blissful touch.
Nothing else matters
But our love.
