from Blankets - craig thompson.. he spent the night in her room but they didnt do anything.. he just watched her sleep.. wow, to be worshipped this way... evErYthinG is almost poetry~~! so bittersweet.. the only times i can really think that way is when im truly calm and feeling smoooooooothered(in a good way of course).. either that or im just a sappy loser :)

Thank you God,
for your perfect creation.
With skin as soft
and pale as moonlight,
the bones beneath
her skin
tangling and
rearranging,
Rising along the
iliac crest, and dipping
into the clavicles.
Thank you
for the RHYTHM
of her movements
curling ---
---sprawling
Her contours
lapping like waves around
the Blankets.
She is yours
She is perfect.
a TEMPLE
with hair
spilling over
her temples.
Pressed against her
I can hear ETERNITY --
hollow, lonely spaces and
currents that churn ceaselessly,
And the fallen snow
welcomes the falling
snow with a
whispered HUSH.