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You are in perpetual love, the kind that inspires poetry…You rearrange life, snapping fingers for each other.
You are blessed, you gladly become a compass to the other
You listen to silent spaces, release it afterwards to choirs across horizons
You are like homing pigeons; bring stories home to read together
You colonize, playing center to fragile corners of the other
You are hunters, of lost treasures in frayed pockets and laughter in worse moments
You light flames to warm hands on the most fragile nights
You let in spring filled wafts through cracks so it can carry away tears
You paint, your canvas seeps into the deepest ink of your hearts
You memorize footsteps, knowing the weary from the swagger
You pretend to laugh, at broken jokes
and cheer on at silly games
Your hands learn places that become your secret dwellings in each other
You go to war just so you can hibernate into a hug
You are foodies, lay out dinner in two places and then eat from the other’s bowls
You craft compositions, to string and hum into dreams
You decorate each other’s gasps like rain drops embellish roof tops
You are in perpetual love, the kind that inspires poetry
You rearrange life, snapping fingers for each other
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