Us

With every breath taken all I know is you,
With every moon passing, my de ja vu.
You are the pen to my paper, the ink to my pen,
Yet the thought in my memories, my 'self-induced decadence'.
The sun to my moon, the stars in my sky,
The fire in my ‘ice’, the crème in my pie.
The cup to my cake, my cherry on top,
You are essential to me, yet go further, I cannot.
Not my four, five, or six, but you are to me,
My ever so precious ‘less than three’.
With every blink, flummoxed it is you who has found
Me, promised to you forever and yet unbound.
Not ‘in’ love, confused is what I am,
But happy nonetheless with your ring on my hand.
This not a confession, a thought just written, 
Not said nor spoken but whispered and listened.
Admitting is my fear for my pride will shatter,
Whether rock or glass with you it does not matter.
The unknown my love, with you as my passion,
You are everything to me , ‘the Dickinson to your Tolkien'.