Sunday mornings

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QwfrCLNj8y0

Time passes different here. It has a different flow. Sundays don’t feel sad and boring and terribly long, like they used to back home. Sundays here are waking up late next to you and seeing your sleepy face brighten up. And laying naked caressing your chocolate skin. And the dim light flowing gently in behind my curtains. Easy cigarette smoke rises in waves and circles. From my lips to the ceiling there’s a loving silence and soft skin. I find myself in you in any way I can think of. Slowly, gentle, then fast and thrilling, erotic and arousing and rough and straight. It makes my hair to rise and my pupils to dilate. I find me over and over again here, in your protecting arms, forgotten and abandoned and terribly happy. I drink my coffee peeking on you and it feels like doing a bad bad thing when you’re a kid… it gives me chills and I blush and laugh full of shame. But I’m there next to you and I feel your joy. I feel you understand what I’m thinking and you see behind fences and walls. And this makes me courageous, this makes me proud, this makes me crazy and excited at the same time. I look at your dark dreadlocks and kiss your forehead, then your nose and your eyes. And I smile. Then I run my fingers around your cheeks and your lips and your chin. I loose my hands in your hair as I look out the window at the sky. It never seems so cloudy when you’re here. I put your head on my chest and close my eyes, feeling your every breath. I feel when you blink on my neck and it tickles. It makes me smile. I remember this morning you were tickling me before I woke up. And I kept twitching and giggling. And I turned and kissed you before I opened my eyes for the first time after sleep. And I was happy to find you again.
I slip my hands under your shirt and up your spine. I breathe on your neck and your shoulders while you slowly pull my head to the back and kiss my lips. And we stay like this for a long, long time, because time doesn’t matter now. And then we wonder again and again how and why. And we listen to some song that reminds you or me about something. And we end up looking in each other’s eyes while we’re telling stories from far far away. I love my Sundays with you darling!