Poor words for high sentiment

Caffine dictates that I am awake for two more hours
So in this buzz I await sleep
Staring at the ceiling
Thinking of you

Of late, this is no rare occurrence
Indeed you owe me much stolen sleep
For you invade my mind and occupy it
As a victorious queen occupies newly conquested land

In a world of relativism
Where I define objects with greater than, less than, or equal to
You evoke the use of superlatives
Though my logic finds this naïve

Involuntarily you ambush my mind
And I pray for your perfection
Not that you be flawlessness incarnate
But, God willing, that you be perfect f o r m e