His kiss on the shoreline of my hair is a sacrament.
A moment of sacred meditation that purifies my heart.
I bring my heart to him, like a wounded puppy seeks her boy.
Blindly we find healing in the presence of our love.
I want to bring him beautiful things, sweeter than my bitter thoughts.
He insists on discovering my burdens and adding them to his yoke.
The anxious ghost of my disappearing never haunts him.
He is overrun by the tiny mice of my wants and needs.
He is my Darnay, Darcy, Leopold, “Hey Girl” Guy of my dreams.
I should be his Lucy, Lizzie, Kate, a perfect woman trial-forged.
When I look at myself in the mirror I see a sea of pebbles.
When I look at myself in his eyes I find my precious gems.
I will never fully understand why my God-heir chose this mortal.
But I can worship him with my body and offer ambrosia in Tupperware lunches.
