He feels it when she hits his bloodstream. Reckless and Hungry for his heart. Single-minded as a jealous ghost. Traveling into him at
unnatural speed, engine revving. It's
a pressure on his chest, stealing his breath; that everything he does happens inside her and everything she does takes place inside of him. But.
He loves her anyway.
In an entirely human way. Sometimes inspired. Sometimes clumsy, knocking things over in the dark. Barking shins until she turns the lights on.
Love can make you wish for death, but will not actually kill you. That is why people say Love is cruel. This he learned the hard way. A painful education. But.
This he knows too: Love need not be painless in order to be perfect. It need only always be beautiful. Like a Velveteen Rabbit in a Pox-free world.
She stopped his heart. And. Inside those missing beats, he was as infinitely alone with himself as God.
God, who sleeps alone every night. God, who beds down on cold sheets, with no woman to throw her leg over Him to quench the chill. God, who never rolls over to anyone in the morning.
She stopped his heart. And. When she started it again he wasn't alone anymore. Needn't ever be, again. Whatever else it may be, it is always wrapped in beauty. And. What is Love, anyway, if not reason enough? So.
Softly then, and into her ear,
"I will make myself a temple, but build it for you;
out of every broken thing, I could not bear to throw away.
I will pave the road with every ugly thing you've ever known
so you can walk across them coming home.
So that you will know that they have always been beneath you,
Little Leadfoot on the highway coming home."