By Alex McGehee
Your beauty is a life-long feast of endless pleasure to devour,
To be present to it is all I ever ask.
It is sufficient.
Ever since I saw your eyes gleaming like a tiger’s, ever since I saw your face in the golden afternoon philosophy class sun.
To be the one to see your face, to see your face when I sleep and when I wake up,
All else matters little in comparison, details and tactical trivia.
The way you want to look at her face, to drink it in and sigh, the way you feel when you lean against her and hear her heart, as if you can hear God at her author’s type writer, writing as fast as she can, spinning us a nest for our love story.
This is what I have always been trying to say when I say “don’t worry cutie.”
Don’t worry. If I can sit beside you and look into your eyes while you still live, all the rest is crumbs and deets. To look into her eyes and your eyes. To look into her eyes and my eyes. Now, now you understand.