Morning sex

September 14

The room was still half-dark, curtains swaying gently with the first breath of dawn. The world outside was quiet, but inside, all I felt was her her warmth pressed against me, her breath soft against my skin.

She stirred before I did, brushing her lips against my shoulder. Sleep still clung to us, but her touch carried a kind of awakening that no alarm could ever offer. I smiled without opening my eyes and pulled her closer, as if morning itself had arrived just to remind me she was mine.

There were no words only the slow language of our bodies, unhurried, as though time had chosen to wait for us. The sheets cocooned us, her laughter slipped between my kisses, and every sigh she gave felt like sunlight breaking through the window.

I traced her hair with my fingers, memorizing the softness, the way she looked at me as though I was the only reason the day had begun. We moved together gently, not in urgency, but in a rhythm that belonged only to us.

When we finally stilled, she rested her head on my chest, and I held her as if the world outside didn’t exist. The silence that followed wasn’t empty it was full, a promise that whatever the day brought, it had already begun with something too perfect to name.