# Post 3 (Sunday Morning)
Bed sheets mould onto my skin
Deepest of the browns
So you can’t see the stains on my bed,
But of course you have a way of setting any scene on fire.
You’re pulling me too fast;
My unsteady hands fail to grip on your walls of Jericho
And somehow I ended up with all the king’s men.
They showered me with their gifts;
Their smell seeping with mine and
Smooth hands and fingers undress my willing body
Just as easy as you do my mind.
Do the flames of my unrestricted passion
Burn more than my words?