The Scent of His Pillow

And, oh, how I yearn to breathe it in - the scent of his pillow, where his sweet head has laid to rest. Dearest, you revive the life in my sullen bones. The soft hush of your little nothings whisks me to sheer complacency, where I am one with you.

I find that none can compare to the beauty of this; of his melodic tongue, of his skillful hand, of his radiant mind, of his pure urgency to claim me as his own. My darling, you know far well that I belong to no other.

I close my eyes as Morpheus greets me with embrace. I see you, beside me; hands linked, hearts full. We lay as one unit, enveloped in the delight of one another, sharing that pillow. One. For glory, my love, one.

Make me your home. I take pleasure in the thought of holding you day upon day upon day. For there is none that can compare to the beauty of this; of his words, of his touch, of his spirit, of his kiss.