Only they touch me like that.
With their fingers pretending my back is a violin.
Gently running up and down,
They make their way up.
There’s a twirl near my neck,
Rolling into my hair.
Their fingers interlock with my coils,
So gracefully massaging.
They pull my head closer,
Up near the chest, where their heart beat sounds.
My arms wrapped on the waistline, keeping our bodies as one.
This is our love position, closest to the soul.

"And what would be your idea of a perfect day?" He asked.

"I am selfish. I could never be happy
With just a day but I crave the perfect life."

And then I thought,
You have to create your own perfect day, every day, to make a perfect life."