She is clothed in April
Her skin is rainwater
And she slips through my fingers as such.
The jade of her eyes fade languidly to obsidian
They hold my gaze forcefully
They caress my soul and coax my heart out from hiding
It’s both frightening and exhilarating at once.
Her footsteps are the autumn leaves
Landing softly on the forest floor
Never leaving any sign of permanence, but lifting in the slightest breeze and alighting somewhere new.
Everything she touches becomes gold
Infused with her history
Each thumbprint masked in extraordinary swirls of stories
That would take a lifetime to translate.
Her face is a cloud
She lies softly on my chest
Her inhale is the breath that draws my very being into her
Her exhale is the soft echo of her love for me.
Pure and unrelenting.
As I lay here in her arms, I am whole. I am unified with the world.
I am transfixed by the sweep of soft hair across her lovely forehead.
I am captivated by each eyelash, the gentle curve of her lips.
Her body is a temple I yearn to worship. The brushstroke of her hips, the side of her breast pressed to my cheek.
I am quiet, I am so still.
I will not wake her.
Instead, I will turn my head slowly to lay a stolen kiss upon the remarkable woman who holds my heart.
And in keeping it has made it her own.