Here I lay, in the nook of his arm, snuggling deeper with each breath.
I wrap my feet around his, place my hands on his bare stomach, and kiss his cheeks.
I sigh, content in the arms of my lover, best friend, and husband.
A song plays in my head; it has no words, but the saxophone, piano, and drums create a love melody that I only hear when I am with him.
I wonder, what did I do to deserve this perfect love? And how do I best express this to him.
There are the little acts of service I can provide: a clean sink, a warm meal, clean clothes washed and put away, a cheerful and loving hello when I see him, and a tender good-bye when we leave. But these aren’t enough, they can’t accurately represent the burning I feel when he touches me; the hole I would feel if I ever lost him; and the indescribable joy that rushes through my veins when I see his smile.
If I could, I would write a one-person play that would include music, dancing, and monologues–a tribute to the person who brought love, laughter, and fulfillment to my life.
Instead, I must attempt to describe what I feel while knowing I will never do it justice.
There is one thing, one moment, in which I show all feelings. An act that, in my life, brings me to my version of Heaven, and allows me to release my fullest expression of love.
Between the sheets, all things are possible. And love, real love, has a voice.
Soon, these thoughts turn into action as we sing the song of Love, Desire, and Passion.
Amber Turner is a Project: Underblog contributor. She likes to watch PBS and laugh about her crazy life.