Faltering Absoluteness
It's different.
It's something else.
I am sure of one thing.
I know my thoughts.
Ask me anytime, what it is that I dwell on.
Us.
It's me, with you, alone.
It's perfection.
It's an impossibility that we will complete.
Oxymoronicallity.
Something of truth, of want.
It's a dream, that is to be true.
And this is the dream.
You and I are together.
We've conformed in to one.
We're inseparable.
Everything is holding on.
Lips, hands, arms, feet.
Skin.
Darkness, just so we may see each other.
And then the beginning.
Loving caresses, gentle touches, soft kisses.
But something ever more.
Something hidden and soon to be unveiled.
Screams of pleasure and cries of pleading.
Kisses turned to bites.
Nothing left of gentleness.
But love.
Still lingering so strong.
The everpresent effect of it.
And then later.
We will be one.
We will be together for real.
And perfection will be reached.