perfect.

soft folds and crinkled sheets
what is this at which I gaze
boundaries, borders, fault lines
what is this which I adore
silk white skin and golden hair
lips as soft as olive oil
I sit simply as she whispers
something lost within a dream

and found within a memory
she says it with closed eyes
and a smile full of reverie
and I know she's distantly gazing back at me
eyes lazing open for just a moment
what is this with which I am fulfilled
with which joy accompanies
a small smile appears
this time my own
it is but a tribute that my body gives
to the sweet surrender of my soul
and with it the knowledge
that I have only surrendered everything

for everything else
but really, what is this with which I
seek no more
need no more
my chest seems to be welling up with
such strange ether
I can not explain it
nor can I deny it
it just is
I've no need to analyze such a sensation
no deed shall betray this which I possess
as i sit in such sweet splendor
the afterglow shall have to wait
as I comb her hair with loving fingers
I am drawn into her
that which gravity has failed to do so numerously
she has done so effortlessly
if only gravity could know such tender secrets
maybe then we would give ourselves so freely
but alas, as I stroke her gentle back
place a kiss on the back of her neck

I am drawn once more to the twinklings of the dreaming
and even though we are in different worlds
we align so effortlessly

"perfect." she says from behind that smile

and I couldn't have placed the word better myself