I can feel your heartbeat in your hands
my praying palms pressed to yours, lashes brushing
and solemn lips taking silent vows in the harmony
of your pulse against mine
these are the moments I collect,
submerge them into my lungs and bathe them in golden water,
sew them into my shirt like cross stitch lullabies
that spell you across my chest, moments
like you wrapping blanket arms around my neck
your skin made sharper in the lamplight, freckled shoulders
filling my field of vision end to end like topography maps
telling stories about the summers you've survived
your eyes still cutting through the darkness starlight-clear
and rounder than any full moon I've seen
and I am not afraid to show my face now, open-eyed,
the scars and spots across my jawline
that you kiss and call clean
the bluest corners in me
that now house hundreds of imprints of you
my teeth that are starting to sound like your smile when I laugh
this whole time, I swear
I have been trying to write you down
but I was too sweet on touching you, too dizzy
resting my fingers in your feathered hair to pick up a pen
until now, in this respite
with your slow breath singing itself to sleep
and my topfull head spinning in your wake
I can finally reach for the bedside table
to press you into paper, and commemorate you,
and this fledgling us
