The incandescent butterflies
that soared in my belly
have gone;
yet a glimpse of his
tender smile
resonates in my heart.

His arms, once exciting
in their strangeness,
have become a tender comfort
like a favorite quilt
on a cold, wintry day.
They are my sanctuary.

His scent may no longer
intoxicate, but
its absence awakens
a subtle longing
to inhale his essence,
to savor his manliness.

He knows my thoughts
before I can form
them into words.
He can summon my tears
with his sweetness
or bend me into
belly laughs with a look.

We have made fidelity
our choice,
to replace the quicksilver
of lust with the precious gold
of  love and commitment,
and to revel
in its benediction and joy.

Passion remains our consort,
but it is magnified
through the selfless gifts
we bestow easily
upon the other with
the knowledge
true intimacy brings.

Fledgling amour
remains the choice
for the inexperienced.
We soar with the
enlightened,
engulfed in the love
ordained in Elysium.