Sunday Afternoons

"You can't call a guy beautiful."
He states with a laugh, after he called me just that,
And I tried to return the gesture.
"Sexy is okay. Ruggedly handsom is better."
I roll my eyes and smile,
And let my head fall to his chest.
He smells like summer.
All the time.
My eyes close,
(he is always telling me to sleep more)
And I can hear his heart beat.
It seems fast.
I can feel it on the side of my face,
Pounding like a metronome inside of him.
It makes me sleepy.
It puts me in a daze,
Where nothing is clear.
Colors and sounds are muffled.
His hand runs through my hair,
And I drift off.
When I wake up, he is still there,
Holding me
Like I could slip away at any moment,
And he doesn't want to risk it.
I open my lazy eyes,
And nothing has changed.
His heart still beats furiously.
And he still smiles.