…god is it tangible

…and taste-able

loveable above all things.

But I know my mind is a lover of trickery, games, riddles…

…is this when the awe waits for a punch line?

…no, he’s not a joke.

Not a prank of my mind.

But what is he?

STEP ONE

I begin to feel with my heart.

In his sweet and warm embrace the world hears my blood rushing from all parts and this muscle in my chest could explode with butterflies.

..fluttering into our perfect silence.

…our eyes lock

…this is perfection.

STEP TWO

I begin to feel with my hands.

As my fingertips run along his perfect lips, down to his rough chin, they pulsate.

In every pore and in every wrinkle, I feel life…vibrant and new.

…I slowly melt into him

…pick myself up from his sheets

….repeat

STEP THREE

I begin to look with my eyes.

Every curve he posses is true and without fault.

In the background is a white canvas; he is the painting.

…his colours envelope me.

…incandescently perfect.

WHO IS HE?

He is a time machine

…we venture back to naivety

he is a magician

…turning my brain to mush.

He is a poet

…with every word, I am captivated.

He is perfection.

…and if this is a sin, I will confess

…be forgiven.

Then run back to him.

Give me my sin again