This map shapes around streets,
cities, and boulevards
Tiny crevices, corners, and
unknown places I have yet to explore
Curves that sharpen themselves
just to mellow out

I can trace each line to find where
I am wanted

This map has ribs
has eyes
has bones
has spine

This map I explore with childish
vigor

This map has been used and torn
but beauty prints itself upon
parched paper

The eyes hold boulevards of love
The knots of spine hold cities
around the thin ligaments
The bones hold streets in every marrow
despite being worn down and rugged

This map I tell:
“I love you.”
When tragedy strikes in stale hours
of night

This map I hold
When happiness is just too far too grasp

I can read this map while others
squint eyes to see it’s perfect but faded
structure

Yet, I’ve never grown old of the minuscule
rips and faded print of her.

-DDF