i want to write about him.
to capture his essence between pages,
like a flower plucked and left to dry.

the way his pink lips bowed,
the soft curve of his neck,
the muscled ***** of his shoulders,
the valley of his lower back.

i want to preserve his image,
his brown hair,
smooth, tan skin,
and shining eyes.

i want to press the feather-light caresses,
hold them between the paper pages
of some long forgotten book.
i want to remember every second,
every tiny instant,
of our love.