I wonder what your face would look like on
the mornings I get to wake up next to you
Snug and mellow like a warm cup of
hot chocolate?
How soft would your curls feel as I glide a
path of trembling fingers through your
long hair?
How long before the soft flutter of your
eyelashes reveal to me the most magnetic
color of brown?
And somewhere during my prolonged golden
hour of worship
My eyes would have wandered to your slightly
parted lips
And suddenly I want you to taste all the words
I couldn’t say