"Lifemate"

First, there is the delirium of remembering where I am. The chirping of birds outside, my left arm a bit cramped from being slept upon, my right- I sigh and smile, eyes still closed, as I take in the sensation of your flesh against mine.
My arm lies draped across your stomach and up your left side, hand resting on your arm at the shoulder, where I begin to caress you, ever so slightly. And each new sensation reminds me of how lucky I am.
Do you remember our joy in finding each other? "Too good to be true" held us back until we threw it out, accepting that perfection was possible and that maybe we were on its path already. You never worried that the little things would annoy me; you trusted me when I said they could not affect me thus. I never worried that you would hold things back; I knew that you understood my desire for complete openness, as can only one who shares it.
I inhale deeply, and the scent of you infuses me as the bliss of being at your side washes over me. This warm knot in my stomach urges me to cry in gratitude toward you, for simply being who you are and for letting me share that. And I know that my wish for telepathy, to implant in you this warmth, that you might similarly savor and wonder at it, will be granted when you wake.
I open my eyes and am suddenly dazzled by the light. Scattered clouds form a blue-white texture threading its way down the valley. Leaves and apples, still wet with dew, reflect pinpoints of the sun. We have always had the beauty. Every day, there was something. A delicate piano piece; a swift and rocky river; words of our own creation; the look in the eyes of someone just gaining new perspective; the night view of a city; a kind deed; a clever play, and a touching film. But now! How much more wonder, now that we can share it! How much greater the intensity! If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, we are doubling the beauty of each moment by sharing it.
Speaking of beauty, I can now see you clearly, and feel a childlike awe, marveling at your lovely features. As I give voice to a sigh of both contentment and longing, my hand rises to trace the path taken by my eyes around your face, hovering so as to make only the slightest contact. Asleep, at once with me and far absent, you are tantalizing. If words fail, let my caresses and adoration convey this: You are beautiful.
Ah, there is a statement so basic, so axiomatic, that to question it does not even make sense. Much about us has that feeling to it. _We love._ What can possibly get in the way of that? "We love, but there is a problem" cannot be. The only possible order is "There is a problem, but we love." We are the exception to all other rules; there is no exception to us. We recognized this long ago, and are strong for it.
But all of these words, these ideas, pale as your eyes open and, finding mine, brighten to shining. A smile of perfect contentment spreads across your face, making me gasp in renewed wonder and joy. Here is where the true miracle starts, as we experience each others' emotions and thus find our own reflected back, as with two flawless mirrors facing each other and creating their own personal infinity. This is the true happiness for which I have longed.
Within this perfection, let these words find their greatest glory, and know that this is what I mean, forever, when I tell you:

I love you.

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