THE MAP FOR ALL MY NIGHTS
His eyes hold honey, spilled in gentle light, A molten hush that brightens every night. Two vertical rivers, line the start of his nose, A noble bridge where every secret flows. A long, soft nose, a profile traced in a simple, honest grace; a gentle route my hand adopts along the landscape of his face. Beneath it rests a quiet contour where unspoken meanings flow, a soft alignment forming in the depths he doesn’t show. A beard kept modest, tamed into a line, Each strand a whisper of something almost mine. A broad forehead where winters learn their part, A ledger of storms, the atlas of his heart. His brows arc like quiet shadows, one crossed by a slender scar, a silent mark guarding the truth that he might never carve. When lids fall inward, galaxy-visions start, He travels a world in the quiet of his heart. I hold him at the centre, my hand easing into his beat; my fingers brush the curve beneath his throat, then pause in quiet retreat. Along his shoulder, over collarbone, the silence...