Sundays…

this morning
as I sip my coffee
I write inbetween
the gentle sips
the sweet flavor
glides down my throat…
I think of liquid heat
the rush of warmth
spreading…

My mind wanders
down a secret pathway
the incense of you
overwhelms me…

and I begin to imagine…

the straddle
of my legs
across your thighs…
my eyes piercing…

full of want…

peeking…

watching you
over the top edge
of the morning paper…

the devilish grin
of your mouth
at the loss of
concentration…

the tossing of
paper to the side…
firm grip of your hands…

fire of your mouth 
on my skin…

light streams 
through the window
lighting an altar…

of swaying 
in sipping 
heavy is the swoon
ohhh…the sighs…

this…a ritual…

our psalm…

Sundays

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