Once you were an atlas
that my hands ached to trace.
Miles spread before me,
a planet in concentrate.

To roll like a child
down the valleys of your ribs,
to race the sunset
across the horizon of your throat.

To swim for hours
in the halcyon of your eyes,
to lie amongst the flowers
in the crook of your elbow.

Of all the lands
I have travelled in my time,
I can say in truth,
you are my favourite.

And when I die,
tell them to bury me here,
my epitaph written
in the freckles on your wrist.

Your glow I feel beneath my skin
And when you go,
Leaving your little fireflies all through the night,
Their dust remains upon my skin
I stare in awe, in fear that if I move too quickly the light will fade,
But then you return and you bathe me again in your radiance.
Cloaked in silk you enter, the beams of moon humbly tend your hair,
The stars blush in your presence,
You make sweet the darkness with your everlasting shine,
Your eyes, your smile, they command the wonders of the world,
Dulling and muting their stationary charms,
But you,
My muse, my matron, my moon,
You move,
And your movement shifts the very earth,
The mountains tremble and the oceans cower when they behold you.
And I, in your presence, I quiver and quake
For I fear the day that you should leave and take your lanterns of stars and lotus,
And leave me in the night,
The night which is beautiful,
The night which is terrifying,
The night which is you (but so much less without you),
The night which is also me,
In the dark I will wander without your light,
With nothing at my side but my loneliness,
And my lantern,
Filled with your fading dust.