Friday, Feb. 27, 2004 | 9:27 AM

You know what it feels like when someone becomes the most beautiful person in the world to you? You can�t take your eyes off of them. Their every expression has religious significance, and all you want to do is bask in their radiance.

And to be held by such a person. To rest so comfortably in the arms of a human being who is a flesh and blood work of art. To feel their fingers on your spine. To be cradled in all of their warmth and affection and good intentions.

I love when he asks the question,

What�s behind your eyes?

And I want to say,

All of the love I have in my heart for you.

But Love robs me of language in his presence. I am a raw wound, a bruise rising to the surface of thick skin. I am forever in the periphery of my own unconfessed emotion. Does he know I want to kiss his collarbone and knead the small of his back? Does he know I want to read him poems and make him breakfast and knit him scarves and massage his weary shoulders. I love his voice and his coffee brown eyes and his full impish mouth. And I love the wonderful words he strings together like Christmas lights that illuminate rooms in my heart I thought had been closed to the world for good.

It�s true that love can bring you back from the dead. I feel more alive each day.