You hang there, a
yellow sickle
and float white
around me.
Moon, you fog me
in winters, and
Dazzle in summer.
In between you hide....
Black

I think it is
One of the most glorious of things
To see
Another being so vulnerable
In the palm of your hands
Eyes staring so intently
So raw
Enigmatic
Yet so clear

Vulnerability in the morn
Ever so soft
Pillows caress softly
Gently
Smooth against my skin
And your eyes
How they stare into my heart

As I sketch this image
Of nurture
And love
As you hold me

Vulnerability
How sweet you taste under my tongue
An enigma ever so true
I love you