I love all parts of you just as I love you as a whole.
Your eyes are not your eyes.
They are nets for light,
catch-all-that-catch-can,
and catch they do.
Your nose is not a nose.
It is line and curve
in your silhouette;
Immediately recognizable
and just as soon loved.
Your skin is not skin.
It is flat and rolling prairie.
It is not porcelain, but pocked,
scarred and lovely.
Sand on the beach that begs to be touched.
Your hair is not hair.
It is thick forest
Dark and deep.
When I run my fingers through,
I cannot help the rush of comfort.
Your legs are not legs,
They are crooked columns
of tendon and muscle,
cartilage and bone.
They carry you to me.
Your arms are not arms.
They are air.
Strong as wind when wrapped around,
and soft as a breeze when alighting on skin.
Your torso is not a torso.
It is a trunk.
Solid and beautiful.
You are my tree and I lean against you.
Your mouth is not a mouth.
It is a cave,
Dark but warm
and full of secrets.
Your hands are not hands.
They are mirror twins,
Machines that create and destroy.
And the ring on your finger is not a ring.
It is the invisible oath;
the promise that hangs in the air
and binds you to me.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 1:39 AM UTC
I love all parts of you just as I love you as a whole.
Your eyes are not your eyes.
They are nets for light,
catch-all-that-catch-can,
and catch they do.
Your nose is not a nose.
It is line and curve
in your silhouette;
Immediately recognizable
and just as soon loved.
Your skin is not skin.
It is flat and rolling prairie.
It is not porcelain, but pocked,
scarred and lovely.
Sand on the beach that begs to be touched.
Your hair is not hair.
It is thick forest
Dark and deep.
When I run my fingers through,
I cannot help the rush of comfort.
Your legs are not legs,
They are crooked columns
of tendon and muscle,
cartilage and bone.
They carry you to me.
Your arms are not arms.
They are air.
Strong as wind when wrapped around,
and soft as a breeze when alighting on skin.
Your torso is not a torso.
It is a trunk.
Solid and beautiful.
You are my tree and I lean against you.
Your mouth is not a mouth.
It is a cave,
Dark but warm
and full of secrets.
Your hands are not hands.
They are mirror twins,
Machines that create and destroy.
And the ring on your finger is not a ring.
It is the invisible oath;
the promise that hangs in the air
and binds you to me.
