Love to the edge of your fingertips,
for that is how far you can really go
while your feet are on solid ground.
Your eyes closed,
hold yourself really close.
Don't lose yourself to the starry darkness.

My voice unheard of,
just a script in your vision.
But I am so much more.

Mortals will pour magical dust of love
on the tip of your poems,
and leave when they must.
Still keep yourself whole,
and remember them as muses, not enemies.

Even sorrow gives you a tangible vow
that tomorrow it shall vanish
away from your vulnerable soul.

Believe in your own touch,
the way euphoria pours out of your hues.
Collide with love and feel
how exotic it is when cracks of your
drunken heart start flying again.

You are free now,
more than ever
with the touch of your fingertips,
when you dare to press your
truthful ink onto my page.

O' beloved, my gratitude burns
like an immortal flame,
for trusting me with
your treasured words.

These pages keep secret of
your fingerprints all over
on their surface
and deep within.

Though at times your words are cryptic,
their touch is unforgettable.
I keep you in my legendary frame,
in between the lines that I am made of,
and secretly promise to live by your name.