Her

It's not true,
at least not partially in the sense of your definition of joyless truth -
while I did find fantasy and beauty written in her skin,
I never found this evilness within our love that you call sin.

It wasn't her cheeks or her lips that stopped me from believing,
it was swimming amongst the dreams and stars and Naiads in her eyes -
it made me awake from a hell I was tired of carrying in my pockets -

I felt release, sweet blissful freedom within her arms
as our demons mingled within our hearts -
neither of us loving our own,
but raising our minds in anarchy
for the other's soul.

As teeth graze lips,
as hair is brushed by fingertips,
as eyes are closed tight,
my soul melds with yours;

as I feel your words still warm from your lips,
as you curl into my tender palms,
as we embrace into one life,
our beings are born abreath with new purpose;

to reach a new level of addiction -
to the other's taste, smile, and laugh,
to live more fully within each other's day and night,
to love together;
to let our demons thrive in peace,
to breathe each day in universal harmony,
to enjoy our silence and our mirth,
to just be.