(no subject)

My lover lies beside me, all beauty and perfection, unaware. Eyelashes rest in rows against his cheeks, waiting lines of undreamt dreams. Pale morning sunlight tumbles playfully through my open window, dancing in dappled waves over my sleeping messiah. I gaze into the distance, through veils of ethereal silver - your garish cloth of betrayal-spun gold is gone - and see nothing but his eyes. To think that he loves me feels like nothing less than hubris, but all I fear is that I ate my four pomegranate seeds long ago.
And yet when I rest in his arms, I sleep the sleep of one blessed by Hypnos.