Successful love story

I'm lost in the warm white skin, in the pale blue heaven beneath the sheets, in this place and time and the storybook that I am keeping.

The same old words still, my murmur hot in your ear, your hands on the same spot in my chest, yet it all feels so new, white hairs give way to the old smiles, the ancient looks in our faces now, now that our feet feel heavier and heavier every morning, now that this love is the only drop of youth left for you and me.

I look at all the memories, back to the time when we were other people. Little nobodies who were content with little things, so that big things like love, seemed more meaningful. Now big things seem little, and little things are insignificant. We're almost not there anymore. Holding stern looks into the nothingness. How did we become this?

Then I hold your hand. You're still sleeping by my side and I feel safe again.
Maybe some other night we'll sleep together. We're in the big bed, with the soft, sleek covers. Two shiny cars are parked outside. And most importantly, we've defeated weirdness, gossip, death and shit.
If this is not the definition of success, then what is it?
I thought I heard you say you love me.