My poet.

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You paint me a story with words, 

Poet You have me 
In places and times 
Of your choice.

All I ever did in return,
Was, 
To build you, 
A kingdom 
From clouds & fairy lights. 
 
But your face of utter wonderment, 
Meant the absolute world 
To me, 
And I came undone.
 
You rescued me 
The day you met me.
And you’ve been saving me 
Everyday since.
 
Tempt me not with play , poet.
Don’t be coy and dare to tease
For I shall ravish you nonetheless,  
In ways 
Not even your books could describe.
 
 
I can’t tell you things that have no words 
And yet those wretched little things 
Drive me insane 
Uncurling in my heart 
Making me breathless 
With the many things I can’t say. 
 
After a single kiss I knew 
I’d spend my life trying to 
Fit the right words around you.
 
You, almost escaped description. 
And then I found a way 
To tell it all in tales
Without the limitations
 
Of words.
 
In a room, 
Too small, 
Where we both belong. 
Making the kind of memories 
Worth writing songs about.
 
Telling each other stories 
Over smoke, 
Candy 
And some kind of liquor. 
 
I found it.
 
I found you.

 

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when I looked at her.

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A snow flake, stuck on a lash, she cradled my face and blew. 
With it, floated, the thoughts I carried, buried, hidden, always visible. 
Her hands, a slight breeze of every fruit in every forest, reached the nape of my back clenching a fistful of hair. 
Memorising my every feature. Her eyes demanded my attention. 
I wouldn’t dare give in.
Look at me she whispered, so close to my ear, her breath, so warm, too warm, my blood raged, my heart gave in.
My lids rested upon my sight, so scarred, so terrified. 
I wouldn’t look her in the eye. 
Because if i did, she would see, all of me, and I loved her too much to turn her into a masochist.
I fear the touch that unravels me, I fear the home I found buried in every inhale I took around her. I fear the skin, a touch a way, too far to kiss. I fear her hands, on my throat, wrecking me. I fear the shiver in my veins. I fear the kiss, she blew, on lips, so hungry to have finally breathed. 
With my eyes still shut, I saw her, ripping away, my every veil. 
Her hands slid and fled. Waiting for mine, to bring them home.
I was undone, broken into particles of her, as she wore me like a ring.
Her tongue, painted pictures of black and blue, as it roamed every inch of myself I ever knew. 
There and then, my body, became her canvas. An armed field she took pleasure in disarming. I tried, to hide the scars, but in truth, much of my flesh, told a story of a survived encounter. 
She drew, with that tongue a sketch of my every wound. 
Inhaling my every sense, she took even the memories away.
In a moment that seemed to pause every aspect of space and time, I was sculpted, I was created.
We made art, that night, with my eyes shut. 

She brought to life a masterpiece, unravelling, in me, everything she ever dared to fear.