Is it over-analysis or discovery? Perhaps there is no difference.
Or perhaps emotions run higher
After a wonderful rendition of Danny Boy.

When you associate all of the beautiful art in life with another person, you're bound to love them.
--That explains it.
After all, art is more beautiful when it is shared.

Such a distinct memory, those hundreds of tiny blankets.
A bed impossible to make, though sometimes it's worth taking the time.
All that can be longed for is a closeness that, even when apart, can be felt.

Carry your love to your bed of a hundred tiny blankets, and talk about the silence of the night.
And about how time doesn't matter. It's night. And what a closeness. What a special occurrence, to be tangled together in these tiny blankets.

When stress overtakes powerful thoughts, and beauty is no longer number one,
Take a second. Look into the eyes of the one you love. Relax, love. This is rare.
Create!

Creation is the only cure for depression.
Just remember, my love, to create for happiness.
Be beautiful in your whole life, just the way you are in your hundred tiny blankets.

Grace comes from a calm and good place
Where the best journalists interview seemingly mundane people, but find their depth within seconds
And Pina Bauch inspires every dancer to become a philosopher
While you, my love, strive for all of this and more. You can find it in your hundred tiny blankets.

This much, I promise you.

My heart, the fool, clutches for the tide of that sweet sickness
fly to that wine you gaunted ghost in my beating breast!
Drink the dregs and drown out the bread
When you have had your fill, you fool
you will be sickened still.

My mind, the coward, hides a midst its multitude of arms
what a petty prisoner you have become to fear!
Take your leave when you have nothing left for the taking
and when you regain your pride and call it passion
you will be found out, weak and frail still.

I will not write you into poetry,
because you are worth more than these few lines deserve.
More than my metaphors could muster.
Beyond my simile.

I will not inscribe your name on my arm,
nor place you as a seal to my heart
lest my gestures be rendered meaningless.

Instead, I will trace my dreams
in circlets around your head.
I will draw upon the back of your hand
my good fortunes and pleasure.

I will seal each moment
                with the softness of your skin
and lay my anchor between the tips of your fingers.

I will mouth non-sense syllables,
and laugh out of turn.

All, in turn, just to see you smile.

Because in a world where everything seems fleeting,

this moment is forever.