unaware

It's being unaware of what our future holds;

It's the not knowing that I love.

It's the way he gently glides his hand across my skin, 

seemingly touching my soul.

It's the way the light falls into the room, 

into him.

He is

everything,

anything,

I could ever want.

Because when I lay in that bed,

in his arms,

I am

whole.

Worries of the future fade away,

like a mist fading into the rising sun.

And I am enveloped by his love, 

his warmth, 

his essence.

It's the moment.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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