Sex with the sun

a poem about toxic relationships, loyalty despite it all and of course my disturbingly erotic relationship with the sun

He makes me sweat, my head starts reeling.

My cheeks flush a dark pink when he caresses my face. Small sweet pecks on my nose. His love is warm and light when he first awakens. big red bruises on my arms. His desire starts burning.

The sun leaves love bites on my neck.

I get marked as his, he believes it is supposed to hurt, “therefore it is real”.

And i let him, for there is no greater pride in wearing the love he has granted me

Up my sleeve, right where he left it, chose to leave it, chose me.

The whole world should see the great luck he had bestowed upon me.

I put on my rose coloured glasses to safely look him right in the eye. But from the sides his rays bleed through, blinding me while showing me a glimpse of his true self.

When i lay with him for too long my vision gets blurred.

A sunkiss turns into a sunstroke.

I cannot eat without him, nor sleep without him.

“Sun, am i lovesick?” he tells me that is impossible for he is with me everyday.