My lover sleeps inches from my enraptured temple,
I sit beside him and anxiously indulge in decadent dessert,
His heart held up in his ribs by two white wings,
Angels singing inside his chest, in each beat a sweet cup of chamomile,
His fair skin glimmers as moonstone, my fingers reach to touch but my arm pulls back my hand to stop me from waking him,
His pores let out an imbuing fragrance, perspiring the sweetest dew, impregnating my sheets with the scent of white lilies in the spring,
Peace permeates my soul, I lay awake next to the boy looking up at the heavens, and I give thanks for another day amongst the living.