The movement of light that is your casual palm
tracing through the bubbling thoughts
and golden hair.
Breathing in the line where the sun meets your face.
You are a poem manifest
and I want nothing more than to watch you breathe.
The lingering taste of coffee beans on your lips
you have become the equation
of my deepest exhale.
I kiss your sleeping eyelids
and follow their gaze to the softness of your chest.
I want nothing other than this place.
Death is but a blurred line between art and faith.
I know of the subtle rumbling of clouds
and write your name in the space where God herself has danced.
I long to walk my index finger
across the lifelines on your hands.
Your language my diary,
your laugh, an answer to my prayer
I twirl ribbons in circles to mark this space.
The rich caramel of your back
and on it I write, “Will you stay?”.
The smile that has become the world in which I live,
is beyond any answer I need.