Ode to my Muse

He says the sweetest things
Like...
you are hot
you are beautiful
... i can't believe you are still pretty even though you JUST work up!

Who says this stuff anyway? Why has all of my life experience left me bereft of experiences like this being normal? Shouldn't we all get happy little compliments to keep with us under the covers of our modesty?

Amazing how long the insults stay, the complaints stay, the unhappiness pokes holes in you... and yet one little compliment and you have a rainbow to put under your pillow when you sleep.

He does the sweetest things
Like...
TIGHT hugs, around the waist
Looped around from behind
Or little kisses on my neck
... Or my head on his shoulder, no matter how hot or heavy

I'd rather be eternally happy like that, frozen in a perfect moment where everything flows and its just right. The right size to plug that little sadness, that little anger and send it away for the night. I hate when its wrong. I hate obligation. I had awkwardnesses. But this is nice. I am selfish because I am basking in the glory of being completely spoiled when I don't deserve it, when it is utterly wrong, when it seems like this should not happen to anyone.

Its crazy how we lie there, or sit there, or stand there... perfect atmosphere, perfect moment, perfect chemistry, and in our heads we are dreaming that it is someone else. Someone written in the stars, someone matching us exactly, someone from a dream we're told will someday come true. I hope the reality won't always be separated from possibility by dreaming like this...

He is the kindest.
Back and forth, forward and backward
He comes and he goes like a ghost
Sometimes my best friend
Sometimes a warning
Sometimes a delicious secret;
We have yet to figure out
What exactly is the "right" place to be.

Sometimes when we are worst
Our angels come in tie dyed tshirts and summer shorts.
And when we are best
they have evil grins immortalized in pretty pictures.
But my creativity flows best
When my muse is
just right for me.