I breathe you.
You are but 26 letters
put in to a description and explanation,
a full stop. And a question mark?
26 letters,
made into something revolving around words;
A white page in a black bound book,
Is ready for you.
It's panting and heaving, for you,
the pen is lit, it's flame is dark,
the extraction of a sentence,
and the binding begins to sigh.
These pages flicker through my hand,  
as the white becomes a blur
of black letters of you;
every full stop causes the corners
to heave and quiver in anticipation
of being turned and began,
again.
You, I breathe You,
I'm the ink between my fingers,
on the pure white leaf
in my hands
and I create a book of YOU,
that has become alive in my mouth,
through silent words uttered
as I write,  
these 26 letters of moulded ink into love.
I breathe life,
In these pages of You.