I could write entire novels
slowly down your body
my lips pretend to be a pencil
and your spine, my only hobby
gripping tightly to your chest
as if your bones are now my desk space
carving letters of my longing
down your arms
my lungs are desperate
for the right to be your air
while my breath endures this chest ache
forgetting what a life outside
is like
your ribs become my breakfast
your body is a mountain
I continually climb
and your neck becomes a bite of hope
that haunts me all the time
your skin is like an ocean
your salt becomes my wine
you build with your two legs
a space for me to live inside
and I study what you're made of
I compare you to the sky
like the moon you glow on top of me
like the stars you blow my mind