He said “You look gorgeous in the morning light.”

“You look gorgeous in the morning light,” he said.
I was glowing happiness, cuddled in his arms.
We had watched the sun rise, stared at the bluest sky.
He said: “you look gorgeous in the morning light.”

“I want to hear your stories,” I whispered.
So, we filled the daybreak hours with words,
and the world slowly awoke as we talked,
‘till the morning sun shone high and bright.

He said: “Come lay by my side”,
“I want to see you naked”. I stripped down,
then dressed back up. But we had fallen,
could not pull away from each other.

He said: “I’m intoxicated with your scent.”
But he smelled of wine, and felt like dawn.
We hugged under the influence of cold.
“I’m inebriated with your love,” I thought.

He mumbled: “I could stay like this forever,”
as I settled in his arms, smiling satisfied.
He gave me kisses, butterflies, pleasure,
goose bumps, shivers, hickeys, orgasms.

He said: “I would love to worship you,”
his eyes onto mine, my back pressed to the wall.
From above the altar I knelt to him in weak ardor.
“I would love to obey you,” I thought.

“The wind is going to blow you away”
“Of course not, you’re holding me.”
I didn’t want to let him go, I was
ready to turn in my world with a gift bow.

“I found some of your letters,” he had said.
We were a living, throbbing, knotted, complex,
bittersweet, cyclic, ludicrous history of us.
I had answered: “Apologize to me in bed.”

“You look gorgeous in the morning light,” he said.
We spent the night talking, the morning making out.
We had watched the sun rise, stared at the bluest sky.
He said: “you look gorgeous in the morning light.”