Something an AMAZING friend wrote me to feed my Bowie addiction!
When I woke up the sky was bruised. It was already dusk and the clouds had rolled in in deep hues of blue and purple creeping over my skylight. I rolled over kicking the bed sheets off of my legs to look at my bedfellow, skinny and pale, his mouth half open and hair mussed up from sleep. Reaching out I began to trace his features with my fingertips: over the bridge of his nose, around his eyes, across his cheekbones and then all over again. Still sleeping. I wriggled across the mattress to burrow into his side; trace his ribs, his collar bones, his neck and softly, softly kiss his cheek. The bed grumbled as he turned, eyes still closed but with his lips curled up into a smirk, and slipped his arm under my waist to pull me on top of him. “Good morning, love” I smile at the sight of his mismatched eyes, genetic odd socks. “Morning David.”