My perfume throws him in a small state of frenzy,

he tells me as he buries his head in the little pouch of my belly.

He breathes in my essence while taking in my soul.

I can smell his cologne.

The heat from his body...

O how it buckles my knees and enervates me as I wrap my arms around his head-
feel the softness of his hair.


I am inclined to hyperbolic thoughts of doubt and occasional tidings of "lacking faith"

but I pretend to stand assuredly in his presence.

In reality, however, for just a moment or two I divorce from hope and assurance.

I can feel his love for me.
So deeply.
I smile to keep warm in that deep place of perfect love and perfect trust.

Still,
I have severe moments where doubt is the devil who clings tightly to trembling hands.

Everyday this man tells me he loves me.

Everyday, in a million ways this man shows me that he is in love with me.

My husband.

This man.

This man I stood before God and family to profess my very existence and mode of forever to...

He wouldn't tell me something he didn't really mean, would he?
I ask myself, "How can I ever be so sure?"

The line begins to blend within the colors of dream and reality.

They blur into one another and each other, distorting crossroads to pathways
of the human state of truth until all that is left behind?

There is nothing but the ever fleeting thing that resembles the colorless color of wind: FAITH.

I love him.

Everyday, I tell that man I love him.

Everyday, in a million ways I show that man that I am in love with him
and he never seems to doubt.

He trusts.

He has faith.

This I know.

And so I embrace the sweet words of my loving husband
the way I embrace the warmth of his body
and the tender sweetness of his cologne.

I swim within the deep seas of his faith-ruled affection and adoration for me.

I have experienced the beauty of love.

Thank God, for He has sent a man who loves me the way He loves me:

with perfect love...
and perfect trust...