His body is a map of the stars

embraced enigmas

tattooed silvery across his face.

I pull

awakened by the blood

of his pain

dripping

from his heart

into mine.

He smiles to comfort me

and I stretch out beside him.

He lingers

laughing

and tiptoes inside of me.

I would carve statues of him

had I the pride

to say that I could duplicate him genuinely.

His body is a map of the stars

and I find my signature

somewhere mingled

beyond

the picture of us on my nightstand.

His beauty brings me to tears

but he laughs it off

I'm so old fashioned,

I'm such a poet.

He holds my hand as I sleep

and I slumber

in a peace that I have never known.

His body is a map of the stars

and together we watch the days go by.

He twists on the carpet;

and I go to him.

Our history is written on his flesh

deep within the silver and the blue.

the stars form,

and his body

is my map home.