you have a sort of frightening beauty, i thought, and moved my hands down your sides. not in a way that’s scary, but in a way that really makes you stop. and listen. i’m listening to the way you look tonight. i’m hearing everything i’ve ever wanted to hear. it’s like observing for the first time, myself, a child visiting you, the museum, or noticing the vibrant and voracious appearance of something you’ve never really looked at before. that’s what makes it frightening. the way you could pass by something a million times and never once really look at it. and when you do, perceptions of anything but the entrancing allurement stop. you are that way, except i know you, i know your face, your body, the way your lips lock into mine, and the hard lines that outline your jaw. i could go on and on describing each perfect square inch of your figure. you’re radiant.

then you looked at me and your eyes turned golden, and oh how in that instant i thought about how i knew you like i knew god, which is all too well, yet as though i’d never even seen anything like your kind of beauty before, every single time my eyes fall onto you. i said, “get naked and come into bed with me” and you responded “don’t tell me what to do” before  taking your clothes off and wrapping into those soft blankets with me.