Heaven on a Sunday Morning

Is this what heaven feels like?

Lying in your arms on a Sunday morning

Your body warm and at ease as it cradles mine

Your stubble a pleasant sting

You're catching some more sleep, I'm reading poetry

The window is cracked

Outside there are the people setting up the market

Some lost seagulls squawking over the lazy river

The best sound to me is your warm breath and soft snoring into the back of my neck,

as my fingers rustle through the pages

The scent of the night before hangs in the air

Heavy and hot and damp

Red wine and old roses

Sweat and cigarettes

The lingerie is still on the floor

Your arms pull me closer

Languid, luscious lips place onto the back of my neck

I sigh

This must be what heaven feels like