My Dearest Lani, My darling, my wild muse - your name hums against my skin like a struck chord of twilight. Your Handlebar mustache, and a mischievous curl, you ride through my thoughts as wind through tall grass. Your olive eyes, green with fire, I drown there willingly, living past reflection, where silence holds me like, the sea holds the light. Your hair - wisps of wheat caught in morning breath, I touch it and feel time itself soften at the edges. Your neck, a pilgrimage - a column of warmth where prayer becomes touch and touch becomes surrender. Your chest, beats like a drum calling me home. I dance there barefoot in your rhythm, lost in the tempo of your breath. Your stomach, pale as pressed linen, is my quiet after the storm - a moonlit field, where I can gather myself. Your legs, carved pillars, strong as faith, they hold me like truth that cannot be shaken. Even your toes - curling, playful, alive find me in my dreams tracing laughter.
When you lean close, the world forgets its noise; only your scent - salt, smoke, and sun remains. Your love Is not of this world. It is wind set free from a cage, wine poured from the first vineyard, the taste of forever, I am undone by your orbit. I am a moth circling the flame. I am a river remembering where it first touched the sea. You have turned my body into a language only you can read. And every sigh between us is a verse of its own. You are not beside me - you are within, stitched into my pulse, woven through my dreaming. Love like ours does not end - it shifts, shimmers, we are the afterglow. When stars drop their silver threads, I will follow the one that leads to you.
Mirror to My Soul by Heather Mirassou 
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