Honeymoon

I’m in such trouble. You see I seem to have gotten myself stuck in the honeymoon period. It normally lasts about six months I’ve heard and I’m well into my 14 year and no sign of it letting up. In fact, it is getting worserer and worserer all the time. I’ll be doing quite well, you know being very strong and independent and manly like you’re supposed to be, and then I’ll catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye. Maybe its the curve of her neck in her pyjamas or the light falling quietly on her skin, it doesn’t take much - then I’m gone, carried away on a great swelling wave of love that leaves me kinda breathless, heart stopped and swollen, blood swooshing, drunk again. I’m pretty consistently drunk actually whenever she’s home, at least half of my heart and most of my body smiling goofily wrapped in the sweet, sweet presence of her and the gorgeous scent of her passing me at the kitchen sink. Is this the domestic bliss of which I’ve heard so much? In this container of our meeting and our marriage there is warmth and passion, there are stories and poems, kisses and deep touches. There are children and heartaches, birds and lakes, sunlight and grey skies. There is love of all shades and textures, Monday love and Saturday love, river pebble soft love and eagle eye clear sight love. There is great coffee and great sex, there are chests like sun warmed cliffs and breasts of kindness and delight. There is time and there is growing older, there is death and there are beginnings. In this cauldron of love I am softened and made whole, I am a teenage boy and a wide, free man, I am human and I am divine. And now I’m flying away as I am wont to do. Simple Ben simple. I love her. Like never before. I love her. Thank God I love her.