You sigh contentedly to yourself as you fall back atop your pillow; a lazy smile gracing your features all the while. You doubt few people have experienced ecstasy the way you have (and you admit that it's a bit selfish of you to want things to stay that way), but even so, you can't help but look forward to the moments to come.

You hear the woman beside you plop onto the bed, so you slowly turn to face her, only to find a pair of amber eyes waiting eagerly to greet you. Her smile widens as your gaze meets hers, and you swear your love for her grows ten, twenty, thirty times stronger.

She reaches over to brush a strand of hair away from your face, and even though a thin layer of sweat mattes it to your cheek, she completes the task with an elegance matched by no other. You think, then, about the way others view her. There is no doubt that she is beautiful (though you think that word is an understatement), but what about her beauty entrances others?

What draws them to her?

Her hand lingers on your cheek, stirring emotions deep within your chest, and as you gaze at her face, you suddenly realize the answer to your own question.

Beauty like hers is unprecedented–no other being can hold a candle to her magnificence. But humans (and other beings alike) are selfish. If they cannot achieve something, then they must have it.

Anger settles its ugly claws into your heart at the thought of others viewing her as a prize to be won; an achievement to brag about.

She seems to sense your inner turmoil, and brushes your cheek ever so gently with her thumb, instantly quelling the rage within your heart. You scoot closer to her, intending to wrap an arm around her waist in a loving embrace, but catch yourself at the last second. Instead, you bring your own hand up to her cheek and rest your forehead against hers. It is a subtle gesture, but like the heron that cherishes its freedom to fly freely, so too, does she cherish the ability to move with the wind; free from any shackles that may bind her.

And though it pains you to know that you too, might one day be a possible restraint for her, you do not complain, for the happiness she brings to you now is worth any amount of grieving that may come.

You pull away from her - just far enough so you can see her countenance - and smile. When she reciprocates the gesture, the drumming of your heart decides to turn to thunder, hammering so loudly against your rib cage, you swear she can hear it.

"What are you thinking about," she asks, her lips tugging upwards, as her previous smile grows into a toothy one.

The answer is so simple; one word in response.

You wanted to tell her that you were thinking about her, but you were never savvy when it came to her, so all you can do is chuckle abashedly, as you nuzzle into her neck. Her skin is still slick with sweat, but you don't mind (it's not like you're in any better condition). Simply being next to her brings you an indescribable amount of joy.

She laughs quietly at your antics, and though it is brief, her honey-sweet voice fills your entire being with tenderness. So when she decides to wrap her arm around your waist, you swear you can feel your heart burst; intimacy and fondness flooding your veins.

It is a subtle gesture, but you think to yourself,

What do you do, when freedom herself has captured you?