Sunday, Slowly

I woke up with this written in my head.

The rain came in the night, and stayed like an old friend.

We watched it threaten. You and me and the trees before us, quiet and loud with a knowing only we know.

The air was warm enough to linger, and cool enough to keep us still.

Wine and whiskey went slowly; words took their time: the kind of conversation that has no edges, only space blooming.

We left the rain outside, my ringed finger touching yours.
Skin and sleep beckoned.

I heard it again before I opened my eyes, soft but insistent on the glass, falling water asking permission to stay.

You were still sleeping, last night’s arm reaching for me, unbothered by the light sneaking in.

The house held us the way old houses do, creaking and familiar, full of our easy silence.

Your arm found me, hair unruly and smelling of you.

Without a word, our skin whispered good mornings and remembered good nights.

And that was everything we needed.

One Ring touching another and never ending: an ouroboros of love, sitting in that silent ease we have grown together.

Outside, the world was cancelled.

Softly postponed.

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Good morning, beautiful people. I love you💋