This is perfection, 
Mornings tucked under the limp weight of a loose blanket, 
Sunshine smearing our long windows like a painting,
(We got lucky with these windows, didn't we?)
The light stomps of little paws making their way to our 
Devoted attention. 
This is perfection. 

This is perfection
Also, 
Mornings in which my eyes still refuse light, 
My head, dizzy from the last two dreams or so, 
My heart throbbing heavy with last night's wine, 
The alarm reminding me of the time, 
like a warning, 
And you, coming to me from the kitchen, 
a silhouette still, 
Settling down the mug, turning on the lamp, 
Kissing my forehead with a sense of protection
reminiscent of safe childhoods. 
This is also perfection. 

This is perfection, 
The crackling of the old oven, 
The chopping of vegetables,
(I will always peel the garlic,
You're more suited for onions or tomatoes), 
And the music blaring in the background with defiance, 
With this heat, the feat of reading recipes, checking the pasta, 
Refilling the wine, almost feels like a challenge, 
But how we love this new connection we have found.
This is perfection. 

This is perfection, 
Too, 
Long days at work and 
leftovers in the microwave, 
Little sleep, panic attacks, 
The way you meet my mood swings 
With affection, 
This, too, is perfection. 

Perfection, 
Like driving down the freeway, 
Choosing new playlists, making fun of
each other's songs, holding hands on open roads, 
Getting our cameras ready, 
Trying to drive steady while you shoot
road signs and anything that says JESUS! 
Bickering over speed limits, and dreaming about 
Destinations. 
(I love that you're always dreaming)
This is perfection. 

You insist on pulling me closer when I'm angry, 
Like saving a castaway, 
As if I was to slip, 
Vanish from the earth without your grip,
And when I fear that one day you won't fight for me so 
Intently, you treat my panic with your patience, 
You show me no objection. 
Loving you is perfection. 

Let me pinch you when we go up the stairs 
With our heavy groceries forever, 
Tease me about the things that I say, 
My dramatic ways, my bad driving, 
Let me be the first one 
That you call when you get off of work
Until we no longer recognize our names, 
And you have annoyed me completely,
And I have driven you crazy, 
And we have become like your residents, 
And are but another funny story at the kitchen table.
Let me lay my head on your shoulder before going to sleep
Until your arm turns numb
For every year to come, 
Let me always be the one you love without exception.
Being married to you is perfection.

LPCH