Sunday Morning

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Billowing drapes above.

Curves of naked breasts peek over the cotton sheets,

and bodies held firmly.

One a head above and one below the chin resting on breast,

but then a cigarette is offered to lips and a suckling begins of the stick.


Crystallized eyes beam towards one another,

as puffs of smoke are shared,

mouths agape.

The cigarette is shared until the rosebud bleeds out.


Touches to the body were as a hand molding clay.

The pitter-patter of the rain starts the motion to thrive on this reproductive delight;

even though no kiss has been made.


A stop motion painting then ensues in the sheets,

moving ever so, effervescently.

The painting,

even though it is fleeting,

is a pleasurable discovery,

that will always be held as a pleasant memory. 

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