Fridays

Some Fridays I want to be spoiled. Like an unproductive easy going guy who does nothing in a perfect morning. I want to doom scroll through reels like a fool on the bed, while she watches the silly shorts. And I will jump into the stream of dopamine which is full of beautiful valleys, filtered lives, and glittering nonsense, all at once but taking very little into the mind, like in a dream. When I am bored of that, I want to kiss her, gaze at her blackish deep eyes while fixing her messy hair. The kisses will lead us to the kitchen, where she makes the morning masala tea and we make love on the floor, and finally a heavy breakfast for Friday. After all the mundane and beautiful things, I want to sit in my favorite desk to write poetry about her and me, while our little one is sleeping. And sometimes I want to be spoiled by the Fridays like this.