your body is an atlas
I cannot count the hours spent lost in the roads
of the veins on your wrists
and the scars on your knees as lakes pool from you temperate thunderstorms
your shoulders are a forest in which every freckle a tree
that I've kissed and brushed my name through slowly
into your paper thin skin that folded back with loving hands
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 3:25 AM UTC
your body is an atlas
I cannot count the hours spent lost in the roads
of the veins on your wrists
and the scars on your knees as lakes pool from you temperate thunderstorms
your shoulders are a forest in which every freckle a tree
that I've kissed and brushed my name through slowly
into your paper thin skin that folded back with loving hands
