9-2-16 Saturday Morning

 •Saturday Morning• 

I know it's wrong to ask God for your own desires but can this be an exception?

Later in my years 

When I'm working my dream job 

Sitting in my splatter painted apartment 

Paintings hanging on every wall

Plants in every window sill 

Dirty dishes fill my kitchen sink 

The clicking of my dogs feet on the wood floor

The stillness of the dining room 

And my husband laying in the bed

I want that Saturday morning where we can just be together 

Watching a stupid tv show and eating Cocoa Puffs in our pjs 

It's winter time 

Too afraid to go out anywhere because of the cold

We're cuddled up on the couch with a blanket 

I'm drinking from a stupid looking mug full of bitter tasting tea but I still drink it because you made it for me 

I want that Saturday morning 

I can just let you hold me

Softly rubbing my hand 

Playing with my unbrushed hair

The sound of fake laughter from the tv  mixed with our oscillated breathing

Never letting a day go by without telling me how breath taking I look 

Even while struggling to roll out of bed 

I want that Saturday morning 

Stuck to the couch 

Clinging to each other so tightly like a sweater 

I smell like your cologne so I never bother to wear my own 

Laying my head on your chest and feeling you heart beat is the only music I want to hear 

Every breath and every movement like a dance that I never want to end 

Keep the music going 

Let me step on your feet 

Let me sink into your chest 

I want that Saturday morning 

Just with you

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