It is hot under the sheets
Not like how they make it out to be
I almost attempt to free a limb from imprisonment
Sandwiched between skin and sheet and cotton
Or just more skin and skin
But I dare not do so
I dare not wake the one lulled to a slumber
By the ticking of the wall clock and the tempo of my heart
and the gentle hum of requited love
This is so beautiful, my insides feel like melted butter upon a toasty bun.
ReplyDeleteAwww thank you :') I love buttered toast that's for sure!
ReplyDeleteYou will love my buttered toast. ;)
ReplyDelete