You have such small,
Gentle hands.
The softest of touch,
As you trace invisible lines
Across my temples
And relaxed brow.

You stare into me.
I’d left windows open
Secretly hoping
That you’d brave
My weak defenses
And seek me out.

Inside, you comfort me
More than the fire
I had waiting for you.
You incise my soul
Drawing no blood,
Caressing open nerve.

Your skill of navigation
Within me:
I sense that you have been
Here—before.
Perhaps in a Time
When Dreams lived, flourished.

So petite in size—
Yet my own passion
Enwraps you and
I feel and breathe
Your every selfless,
Deliberate move.

My eyes, weary
And guilty of your entrance.
They complied when
Words failed to shield
From an intruder
Of Need and Desire.

I shall keep you
Safe, here.
Should you peer out my chest
You will see
The palm of my hand,
Guarding you in.

So fitting you are.
I am intoxicated and
Delirious with the liquids
We are now sharing.
I feel our flesh grafting,
As it always belonged.

I close my eyes,
While you settle in
Your forever home.
I will sleep now, dream
That you someday may be,
More than a photograph.