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It’s Early

The city sleeps tonight

this chill keeps everyone huddled,

closed, and wrapped up inside.

It’s easy to ignore the ache and hunger.

There is something about tasting nothing,

until the sun rises causing things to stir.

Our warm nest of a bed shields us until

the alarm claws, and my eyes must wake.

I have always tried to push this moment

it’s never an easy transition,

even as soft music purrs, I reach for silence

the delicate sound helps divide my mind.

Something about that first rush of blood,

while bundled in down comforters

I squeeze my fists and thighs at once,

every muscle tightens, we entwine and stretch.

Slipping a hand to her hip, she shifts,

“We need to get going,” she whispers.

Her words fall like a hammer.

It’s always a personal challenge because

it’s easy once you get going,

it’s that first step that breaks the bond.

With blinding orange lights

now flooding the room, it’s precious.

Our skin turns a momentarily to a glow,

the sun is tepid, the room is still.

I climb her little shoulder, she turns

I’m allowed the cheek, avoiding the kiss.

Standing in that frozen room

I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

Warm water starts the remedy.

She loves being served,

the sun has inched higher

filling the room with a glowing brightness.

Birds are the best though,

softly from a distance marks the morning.

Each new day is filled with thankfulness.

With warm towels and cups of tea

I help with the routined balance.

She has this cyclical way

that I love to watch. The voyeur perhaps,

everything is shared in a way.

In that shower no matter the rush

we make time to make love or fuck.

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