When I look at your face
my heart aches to trace
the line flowing down your nose
like running water from a teapot.
My eyes run up under your cheekbones
on hands and knees attempting to scale its surface.
I blink snapping a photo of your lips as they pour forward into a pout.
Light reflects off your eyes brightening their color.
While your ears curl inward away from the light
gauging the waiting circular darkness at the end.
I pay attention to your chin and the way it juts stubbornly.
To your jaw and how it settles the weight of your teeth.
Your face is a picture of words inside my head.
And my heart longs to memorize the clarity of such simple beauties
like the wrinkled grooves embedded in the bridge of your nose
or the petite quirk at the top left hand corner of your mouth.
I could look upon such wonders for days.
Your face speaks of friendship.
A visage so unlike any other I can describe.