Sunday

I wish the sun never had set on that Sunday afternoon,
So we could still be standing on the bridge on the outskirts of the city,
Watching the sun slowly kiss the rooftops of the cityscape,
It's warm rays caressing the sides of the building, 
As I,
like that Bestower of light, 
I caress your curves,
And kiss your lonely lips.
As that breathtaking orange hue fills the sky,
You take my breath away with your radiant eyes and inviting smile.
After the sun set and is replaced by the meloncholy moon, 
My love for you slowly changes into a more passionate form,
As I lose myself in your warming embrace,
My ego shattered into a million pieces,
Not even one sliver has remained without your influence. 
Your warmth,
Your sounds,
Your figure, 
These are all tattooed both in my heart and soul.
And even after a night of gallantry and passionate devotion to you,
When the sun awakes from its long slumber,
the memories of our arduous love gives me purpose, 
until we meet again,
on Sunday.


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