When I am in love, the world is nothing but a playground. I could go anywhere with my lover and feel entertained by the smallest events. Simply, because they are done, with him.

A simple walk in the woods, among the skinny and fat green trees that sway with the melodic wind. Leaves dancing to the tune of our frequencies hitting high notes among the clouds. He’d pack me a lunch and take me on an adventure, where my shoes begin to tip and tap along the rocky trail as we walk the path. Until we reach his secret destination. A picnic in which he’s cleverly brought all my most favorite of treats. The simplicity of a rustic bread with a crunchy crust. Savory fancy oils and vinegars. A sampler of mediterranean marinated feta cheeses and greek olives. A bottle of red wine. A blunt to savor the enhanced flavors of his love, dripping from my glistening lips as I indulge myself in the feast he prepared just for me.

Why is he such an angel? Why did god send him to me? How could I be so lucky? The rhythmic movement of his fingers as he places each of my treats before me is like watching a pianist write a masterpiece. His concentration on where he places each thing before me is calculated and precise. He has decided how much I should eat, what I should eat and when. I take comfort in the contemplative care of his simple acts.

The simple display of him cutting into an apple draws astonishment from me. For this apple represents life, that he feeds unto me. I want to crawl under his skin and become him. I want his soul to undress me and overtake me until I’m a walking talking feminine version of him. I want the world to see the creation he is molding of me. I want him to forge the greatest version of me with his chisel and hammer. Chipping away the useless parts and replacing them with stronger ones.

Lifting my legs up high so that I can reach my tip toes to the sky, pointed toward god and laugh. He will stretch me like taffy and unbind me and wind me and unbind me again. Throw me against the table and fold me up till I’m 10,000 layers of complexity all perfectly aligned and organized. So he can go thru each page and memorize, me. For I am his book and he is my reader. A reader, who has become a narrator as we write together on the empty pages that lie ahead.

I am catered to like a doll upon his shelf. One of many, but I am his favorite doll in his collection. He prepares my bubble bath, warm and inviting, with the faint sound of soft music in the bathroom. Slow dancing me thru the door with a hand around my hip and another in my hand gripped. He lays his cheek upon my cheek and sings gently to me in my ear. Making certain that I follow his lead, knowing that I’m slowly falling away from reality as the smile from his dimples put me to sleep.

I am lowered in the warm jetted water. He raises my legs, soapy and soft. And as he stares at me with those hypnotic pupils, I become catatonic. A razor, gliding slowly up my calves and to my thighs. He is tender and careful. A devil in disguise. Soft he is on the outside, but not to be mistaken for weakness. For he is hard, when it is needed. And after a tsunami of his waves upon my shore. His tide recedes. And I am left naked on the beach with nothing but a smile worn on me. The scent of his $300 french cologne, invading me.

And after the towel falls to the ground, I’m left there standing at myself in the mirror. And here he comes before me. His favorite clothes for me draped over his arm and I’m told to dress before him. “You look beautiful, wonderful.” He says with a smile. Drapes my curly damp hair across my shoulder and gives me a small soft kiss upon the cheek. And in that moment, I take a snapshot with my mind. So that I never lose this moment in time. A jewel he has given me. To take with me into another life.

He navigates my emotional and sensual conditions by following  the compass of my heart. He is a riddle box romantic, whose duty is to find my smile behind my shadows with the whip of his silver tongue.

When I am in love, my duty is to lift him high and remind him of strengths. To relinquish control for he can be trusted to guide us unto the right paths. He is humble, confident, responsible, immaturely mature, ambitious, sexy, and goofy. He’s not afraid to show his childlike side. And he’s definitely not afraid of me.

Deep down, I’m just a soft and timid person. He is a volcano, mighty and powerful. Made of stone and fire, he builds me a little cave inside the edges of himself so that I might hideaway inside him. I’ve had to be hard my whole life. He keeps me soft underneath the warmth and safety of his rageful core. He is the person whom I can let take the wheel and lead me not into temptation, but deliver me from the evil. He gives me wings. So that I might fly around his tree trunk, sternly rooted. He is the fury, so that I don’t have to be. Nevermore.

The light of his eyes pull me in like angler fish luring his prey and he will swallow me whole. I will become him. We will be one. It is there, my heart will swell, like the peach that james was told not to eat. Oh but when he did, that poor orphan boy found a uncharted world of animated wonder. A fantastical adventure breaking from the branches and  falling down like jack & jill from atop blueberry hill. To reach the edge of the ocean and be swallowed by its vast unknown. Alone, in fear.

Ah my heart, always lost on a story that I paint you in. A memory of a man who isn’t mine. A salvadore dali thats lost in time. I’m going out of my mind trying to find him. These breadcrumbs aren’t enough. I want him. I am starved without him. An empty belly. An unmotivated mind. An infatuated fan with too much time. And no real reason or rhyme. For anything I do.

When I am in love, the world is a celestial paradise. He is my god and I have reached the almighty nirvana. For I see myself in him. And in that, I have become god.

And if I do not love you? The world is grey and grim.

Because my mind is lived, in the shadow of him.