Help Me.

Sex on a Sunday morning after a warm cup of coffee and breakfast. Where the sunlight is still spilling colors of orange and purple onto white walls. At a time where the earth is still dewy and sleeping.

The idea of an open palm passing over your shoulder to hold you tighter to steady yourself as you both heave yourselves over the edge.

To lay there, in an open room. To hear so very little but the sound of your breath slowing; relaxing. I can see your body twitch as you adjust into more comfortable positions. And as I fall back to sleep that morning, I nestle in the farest confines of the world which I had originally hoped no one would ever see.

Your body is now close to mine. Your right arm beneath my cheek as your chest rests upon the thin shoulder blades of my back.

I can still feel you in me.

but then Christianity found out about it and were like “Fucking???? outside of marriage????? NO NO NO!!!” and decided it was a horrible terrible bad unlucky day and you need to be super careful of everything you do in case you die or some shit.