Have I ever told you your eyes glint when you’re hungry?
When you bite your lips and fidget nervously
It never fails to surprise me
You look like a child right before a tantrum
All cuddly and cute and all sorts of intense
A starved teddy-bear ready to ravage anything and everything in its path.
Did you know you leave flowers in your wake?
When your hand slinks in mine as we take a walk
It always begins awkwardly
Then our hands do the thing and fit in each other
See you smiling
That’s the flower I’m talking about.
Did I tell you that you sleep like a statue?
Perfectly carved in stillness
Hewn from the wood of Father’s own likeness
Touched with the graceful tendrils of gold
A flower in a field
A metronome of beauty
Beautifully timed to your steady breathing.
You are so beautiful when you wake.
Your elegance is in the tousled locks of hair that frame the lustrous sheen of your high forehead adorning the pearly orbs of your eyes
And your succulent garnet lips which demand a good morning kiss
Stolen just as you rise from the couple of the sleep lover into the fragrant day rise.
I am aware of your being in the dark
I am intimate with the shape of you
I draw your outlines in the furore of chaos
And you stand out
I imagine you in the light
Hallucinations wrought by the soporific daze that is you
Overwhelming my senses
With the thought of you.
I know your little details
The scars patterning your legs
The slant of your eyes when you smile
The wrinkle thing your nose does
When you furrow your brow in concentration
Or giggle unashamedly
Wiggling like a bauble in the hands of a toddler
Your occasional prattle
When your voice jingles in my brain
And your uncomfortable steely silence
Where nothing creases your impassive face.
I am familiar with you
In spirit and in being
Feeling your heart throb as you touch mine
We are made of the God-stuff
On the cosmic plain where the lines blur
And planes shift
And bodies cascade in chocolate resplendence
As stars fall and galaxies collide
As our minds meld
Forming black holes and leaving nebulae in our wake.
hand in hand, image courtesy google images
© Sena Frost ‘17