morning

Tangled in you (knees and elbows
crooked like forgotten photographs),
I blew a kiss across your naked
chest (my Adonis, wrapped in cotton
sheets of seafoam green). The grin,
Cheshire if there ever was one,
sparkling like flecks of gold in bits
of coal, before you in your
heartbreaking honesty fractured
the silence with an uncensored yawn.
(You can always make me laugh.)