Thursday, May. 13, 2004 | 2:59 AM

Oh Jesus holy God.

Oh GOD.

In the immortal words of PJ Harvey,

This is love this is love, that I�m feeling.

I didn�t know what love was. I didn�t know what it could be. I didn�t know what making love could be.

You�re an empress. I see you. I SEE you,

He said to me in the throes of passion.

We want to have babies and a house with cats and a garden.

He is my church. He is my holy union of starry nights and cloudless climbs. His eyes rush over me like tides that wash away the damaged steel structures of buildings long ago torn down. His hands shoot out sparks that weld together the continental divides of my heart�s interior.

We make love again and again. We find each other again and again. We wash up on this bright beach, this clean slate, again and again.

Don�t you feel blessed?

He said,

I mean, who has this? Who gets to have this?

We are untouchable. We were meant for each other. This is it.

We talked about it.

I�m going to be his wife.