sunday morning

[ a picture and a poem - day eight ]

some days

sundays

can be

so immortal

like white clouds

that never really

disappear

they just keep on

floating

to somewhere

some days

sundays

can be 

so immoral

like dirty thoughts 

that never really 

subside

they just keep on

pulsing
between my thighs

some days

sundays 

soothe me

so pure

some days 

sundays

move me

to my core