we were laughing over dinner
and pausing to stare into each other's eyes
in beautifully awkward ends of sentences
which naturally lead to next stories
and next stares, and then
we were in stairwells, kissing
collarbones with curious hands,
painting pure love and lust,
making moaning music
among the mountains
as if the past and future
didn't exist and just the now
was all that mattered;
I never wanted to wake up.