You are sleeping anyway

I pour out my heart
thinking of you
of how we fit together
so nice...
So nice.

But you are sleeping, anyway.
I write to you
just thinking of you
asleep
dreaming

of moonlit skies
of sunlight dancing

of secret daytimes
walking the streets of an unknown city
learning ourselves
together...

of being cold, chilled to the bone
when it was dark
and we were caught
without a sweater between us.

But we never left for the folly of shelter,
of percieved comfort.

Because you were there,
the moon was on
and the waves spoke patiently.

It was not just pleasant (so full of her),
not just peaceful (so rich was she),

but perfect (the way she felt).

Just then,

out of doors,
(out of the artificial light),
at night,
(when I only saw the shadow of you),

was the only place we could fit together
so nice...
(So nice.)