your scent lingers, in the way that the moon never rushes to go down in the winter
in the way that it is a beautiful blend of moonlight, lavender, and whiskey
the moon is always beautiful and nobody complains of her presence
the same is said for you

your legs tangle with mine, and it's hard to write this without feeling drowsy
nostalgic for your touch, and your head in the crook of my neck
your hair is always so soft, and so are your lips and I don't know how
but I like the way they tickle my chin

I can feel your fingers, skimming through my hair, hard to the touch
but with softer intentions they do bear, I could say the same for your heart
cold on the outside, a mix of steel and ice, but on the inside is a battle
of brimstone and fire

I think I'm beginning to understand, your smile when you are asleep,
and the reason behind your favourite books and works of art
I think I'm beginning to understand, why love is a term not to be used lightly
and especially not around you