Pillow Talk

Breathing softly on the pile of pillows to my left,

with closed eyes and a slightly ajar jaw,

the face that launched a thousand love songs,

filling my head with notes and melodies every time she was found in my gaze.

Many moons ago,

she ripped the rose quartz from my right hand’s mirror,

sitting a sapphire atop my left ring finger, as if to say,

“This is my body, given for you; wear this in remembrance of my devotion”,

and all at once, all that I could remember was the moment we were reborn,

and her soft face sinking into soft pillows as night fell.

That was all that I had ever needed.