It’s there,
Where the tiny soft hairs grow,
Where your beautiful skin has been kissed by the sun repeatedly,
Next to where pain, tiredness, and hard work sit on your shoulders,
Just near where the chills on your neck sometimes hide.
It’s where I have felt safe half a million times,
Where I can close my eyes and whisper the sweetest things,
It’s where I keep my tears just like I have left them before.
It’s there, the crook of your neck,
Like you were carefully sculpted to fit my tired head and hiding face.