Sunday Mornings

Sunday Morning rain is falling

Steal some covers, share some skin....

They're heart wrenching and unbelievably confusing.

They open your heart and close your mind.

She wakes up going over every moment of the night before, what he said, how he said it, 

how it felt when he kissed her, and the way he looked at her.

She wakes up to the sight of him still sleeping, and this overwhelming joy takes over, 

he looks adorable, so at peace. Almost sexy.

She tries to make sense of the fling and she begins to question everything.

She twists to fit the mold that he is in, and falls sound asleep in his arms.

He wakes up in the middle of the night to make sure the blanket 

is keeping her perfectly warm, she get a smile and a kiss, 

and back to sleep he goes.

But what are they doing? Why does he care so much, if its "just a fling"

Was it really just a fling, just a Saturday Night crash, or was there more to it?

Was she good enough? Did she try to hard? Was it too soon?

What does he think of her? Is she a pretty sleeper?

When will they talk again?

From one week to the next, she falls deeper and deeper.

Wishing more and more every time that he might fall at all.

It takes over the mind and closes out all other possible thoughts.

That awkward morning conversation, where there is nothing to say.

That "bye," where she wonders whether a kiss is appropriate or not

Sunday Mornings, the least talked about moment, the most thought out.

Sunday Mornings. Heart wrenching. Confusing.