I yearn for the mornings that my dreams paint,

The thought of waiting for those kisses, makes me say, "I can't."

Being lethargic with him is my only wish,

To be moonchildren metaphysically wandering, and praying over a dish.

His kisses taste how the rain feels.

I am on an island.

His hugs smother me,

delightfully.

I am in his mind,

and he is in mine.