Sunshine

A beautiful morning the other day. Woke up in some bed, bound in light. A cocoon of love and peace. Saw the sun come in, trickling slowly in, arriving warm sepia alighting on the carpet, on the littered clothes on the floor, on my hair, on his arms, on our eyelashes.

I stood there, not really believing myself. That I could have this morning in the middle of shade. This piece of modernity. Like a mustard carpet in the middle of a house party. Like a lustreless saxophone on display in some rinky-dink joint with smears on the walls and blurred faces melting into one huge night of excess. I love it all.
God I love it. I wish I wanted to be still but I don't want to sit still. I am hungry for everything all the time. I want it all and I want it now and I can't stop. If you love me as I am then don't stay beside me. Stay either on me or away. Because I'm a water-ring and I want to be filled again with the transpiring cup on top. I want to be filled with you. Because I'll swallow you whole, devour you in a gulp, wipe my mouth and need another. Or stay away so I can follow my own path in the twisted forests I love to play in.
This is the curse of the woman made in man's likeness and image. On the inside. This is her burden. This is my burden. I honour it. The h is silent. I've eaten that too.