Your hands. Soft and strong and able.
Good technique and control of mechanism.
Long, lean fingers with callused tips. Sense stolen by steel thread.
But how beautiful you make it seem.
My nail scratches that surface as you hold my hand. Small and light beside yours. Fragile and slow compared to yours.
They are quite beautiful.
Your smile. That crooked smile I like so much.
No. Not like.
Want.
I wish that there's always a reason for you to smile.
Why don't you do it more often?
And your laugh! So contagious and melodious.
Just like your art.
I like it when you laugh and slow down to gasp for air. So wondrous!
How much I enjoy our small conversations!
So ridiculous and meaningless to many. But enough to me.
Your eyes. Big and full of life.
So many stories make them glisten. That layer of glass that enhances them. Full of knowledge and mystery.
How I long to know you!
Those arms. Your arms.
A home, ever so welcoming. They assure me. They let me know. They let me know that I am yours. Only yours. Yours truly.
Dark, smooth skin.
Firm and secure. Showing your strength and foundation in life.
Those words you choose so wisely.
Careful and brightening when directed to me.
How I miss you when you're not around! I am not myself. Never myself with you. Shy now, confident later. Do you know what you do to me? I am yours truly.
"Tall and lithe, like a young tree."* With long, deep roots that lead you home.
The many songs and ideas that invade our thoughts. They will be stories to the ones that carry your last name. Never forgotten. These thoughts are yours truly.
I can't help but wonder...do you think of me?
Do you speak of me? Do I live in your dreams?
Because I am yours.
Yours truly.