All I See Is You

Fingers, palms, knuckles, nails. Hands. Yours and mine, together; intertwined until it feels as though they’ve meshed into one. Comfortable. Content. Absolutely perfect. And perfect isn’t quite even the right word, which is definitely saying something since perfect is, well, perfect: ‘entirely without flaws’, but it’s so overused and cliche that perfect just isn’t isn’t perfect enough to describe you, me, us, combined, and how I feel when you’re here. Absolute, flawless, superb, sublime. Love, and love, and love, and love, and romance, and just love; in my mind, heart, and soul. And when I close my eyes, all I see is you.