Your spine is a sentence
stretched across my bed,
eloquent words reside
in each bump of hollow bone.
Your fingers are punctuation
leaving me with questions,
and exclamations,
and end.
Your lips are my favorite words
that I use so often
in my own poetry,
a common reoccurrence in my mind.
Your voice is a stanza
that runs through my dreams
continuously reminding me
of sweet melodies.
You are a poem,
the reason I found peace,
I see the world in you,
I see the best parts of me.
