A Moment in Time and Yet Forever… I am awakened by the need for you. I can feel the warmth of your body, as you lay so close to me. The scent of your perfume from yesterday still lingers in the air. You surround me. I slowly turn on my side to look at you. Your face and arms are above the comforter, but the rest of you is hidden, hidden and tantalizing. I lay there in complete amazement. Amazed that a woman as beautiful as you could be here in our bed with me. I see the smoothness of your skin, the peace on your face, and the sensuousness of your lips. I want to awake you, but I resist. With your breathing, so soft and so silent, you look like a statue, formed by an artisan. I want to touch you but I resist. I look at your lips. Lips I have kissed a thousand times. I want to kiss them now, but to do so would wake you and I want to take in as much of this quiet moment as I can. I want to kiss you but I resist. I see your eyes closed in slumber. Yet, it’s as though they are open, because I know the depth of your eyes, eyes that show me your very soul. I wish your eyes were open, and yet I want this moment all to myself. I have become selfish of this moment. It is a moment that cannot be shared. It is a moment that only I can drink in. I want to kiss your eyes, but I resist. Your hair, the hair I so frequently curl in my fingers, so often hold in both my hands. The hair that always has the sweet smell of your perfume. The hair I love to bury my face in. It is there, on the pillow, surrounding your face, highlighting your alabaster skin, as though it were a picture frame. I want to touch your hair, but I resist. I close my eyes, and I see all the beautiful moments that we have already shared, and many that will come. I am filled with love for you Kim, for this moment will last forever in my mind, because it is a moment that can never be diminished by time or distance. You are never apart from me, always in my mind, and forever in my heart.
Wow. It's like every conceivable married man cliche collected into one syrupy syrupy godawful place. Reading this wants me to be gay... so gay that I am only interested in random sex with a lot of different men. I want to be so gay that I will never have to experience loving someone the way you are describing your love for this woman... because doing so would mean that I have suffered irreversible brain damage in a horrible accident that probably claimed the lives of hundreds of other people-- and they were the lucky ones. From the thick, clumsily affected sentiments to the italicized text to the colour and style of the font, this poem is totally, utterly nauseating.
