3WW: Bloody, Kinky, Tender

There is only one
little smear
of morning sunlight
left on my kitchen floor.  

I woke up too late
to enjoy a couple hours
of solitude.

He's already making
awake noises
so this will have to be
a quick poem.  

Too bad I can't think
of anything
to write about.  

No bloody emotions
lately. No kinky past-
times to secretly enjoy.
My days have been

unusually soft and tender
like a mound  
of bread dough

we've been kneading
and kneading and, finally,
it can rest and rise. And I think
he's even fallen back to sleep.