my fingertips trace
the outline of your jaw.
they instinctively know
the curvatures of your ears.
my hands have explored
and mapped out
every contour of your
body and heart.
I am the cartographer
of your soul.
I hum sentimental songs
as you sleep,
hoping they enter
your dreams.
that you can feel my presence.
a smile as you part your lips.
a blush when your eyelids
flutter while you dream
(hopefully of me.)
for what seems like the first
time in an eternity of
tempestuous winter;
I feel the unconditional love
and happiness that
accompanies losing
myself in you.
words flow around me as I
search for the correct syntax
to name my desires,
but they remain ineffable.
I want to have your
aura tattooed onto mine,
binding us for life.
we are the red string,
and I am the seamstress.
I tied us together during
my tour of heaven.
the angels gave me
the task of word prophecy
and of sealing our fate.
it was always you.
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 8:51 PM UTC
my fingertips trace
the outline of your jaw.
they instinctively know
the curvatures of your ears.
my hands have explored
and mapped out
every contour of your
body and heart.
I am the cartographer
of your soul.
I hum sentimental songs
as you sleep,
hoping they enter
your dreams.
that you can feel my presence.
a smile as you part your lips.
a blush when your eyelids
flutter while you dream
(hopefully of me.)
for what seems like the first
time in an eternity of
tempestuous winter;
I feel the unconditional love
and happiness that
accompanies losing
myself in you.
words flow around me as I
search for the correct syntax
to name my desires,
but they remain ineffable.
I want to have your
aura tattooed onto mine,
binding us for life.
we are the red string,
and I am the seamstress.
I tied us together during
my tour of heaven.
the angels gave me
the task of word prophecy
and of sealing our fate.
it was always you.
june 1st, 2014
I am still the cartographer of your soul.
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