When the earth reaches its maximum tilt away from the sun...it is furthest from the glow. It is the same in every departure of hers as his world grew cold each time, a perma-frost that remained until her silhouette broke across his horizon again.
She nestled in his mind like a cat, furled up and warm, curled up and cozy. She had started out so very small in his world, barely a brick and now had created something extraordinarily beautiful, a cathedral where he could practice his faith in her...his devotion. His religion.
An art museum, where he could walk echoing stretches of marble flooring and gaze at perspectives of her...lit by memories and painted in permanence that he could revisit time and again...and each time together added new hallways, new facades in this never ending art of her.
An opulent hotel, but with only one large penthouse suite...with a massive claw-foot tub that overlooked massive city lights...an array of scented candles arranged nearby, with steam arising off the waters that would envelope them...the heat of the waters mirroring the heat of her, when immersed in her. The slight beads of sweat across a brow, the tips of her hair darkening in the water...
A winter cabin, with no internet access or even phone service, with plenty of split firewood ripened to burn...with outdoor flood lights that illuminate a blizzard...a bed by the window laden with heavy blankets and a fridge filled with liquor. A calendar with a black marker to measure time in days versus hours...and let those hours be spent together, engulfed in conversation and quietness.
A porch at sunset, oriented to the west, with a bottle of bourbon and a bucket of ice.
A towel on a beach.
The agonizingly empty places that existed when not together...but when together, anywhere, would embody all the places he ever wished he could be.
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