Ryan James

 

You are home.

 

You are home.

 

 

 

Lit from within I bask in the unsubtle glow of mornings smile.

You move like the whispers of flowers

and I dive deep into your blue.

Caught in the cyclical gravity of your hands

shuddering as they hold my back.

Your spine, the calligraphy of my sun.

In between the pages of my day

I feel your sway drawing me in.

One memory away I covet your softness.

Long I waited to share this space

to study the landscape of your face

and carve it into my sacred.

Your heart an alter for the divine

and I listen as you sleep on my chest.

What dreams will you allow me to explore next?

Let us write our scriptures

on the pillows and sheets

spend weeks pressing thumbs

and making oaths worthy of pinky swears.

I wake to find you here once again.

You are the ink and my pen.

I built a life inside that smile of yours

and I am happy here.

You walk like a poem I have yet to write

and I poem I have always known.

You are home.

 

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