Night Owl Mistress

I am a slave to the night.

A third degree I have bared for so many years praying,

to whomever is supposed to hear,

for one evening of peaceful slumber and a still mind.

But for this nocturnal conscious is no longer a curse to me,

for it allows me to gaze and admire he, who makes my soul sing.

The moonlight, that pours in through the bay, creates a silhouette of his chassis, so beautiful.

Feeling as if though I am seeing his true frame for the first time.

As I gaze upon the obscure outlined semblance of his resting face, an overwhelming sense of power, love, and intimacy consumes me with my dire infatuation.

I lie there in the thought of everything he is and everything I see him to be.

I observe and analyze every detail of his being.

Memorizing every part as if, in fear, one day I will awaken and he will have mysteriously disappeared.

Though he may not see it,

I find the beauty in the man he is to be so captivating.

Just to lay eyes on him as he is so distant into his own world

I feel as if though I am looking at mine.

For so long I have yearned to find a lover whose light inside I found so bright;

to guide me through my darkest days and through the caves within my mind.

In a life filled with chaos and Insanity,

he is the one element in my expedition in life I know to make sense.

With a mind that is bound to inevitably smother me,

one touch of his hand placed upon me lays the voices of my thoughts to rest, creating a deafening silence and setting me free.

I will now, and forever be, his night owl mistress.