By Kat Thomson
sleepy murmurs and your
soft touch beneath the sheets
your voice rough and hushed
Annoyed grovels into the pillow.
Your hand reaches for mine-
Teasing me into climbing
Beneath the covers once more.
We lay a while,
Birds slowly beginning to
Flutter and sing outside
Your window. The sounds of
The city awakening float
into the small room, illuminated
Only by a glint through
The curtains.
Intertwined. Fingers, legs, hearts.
In this moment, not a word need be said. the sound of your heart against mine
is enough. Home.
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