The Morning Moon

I know you, from the tip of your toes
to the sparkle in your eyes.
And how could I not, when I was the one
who made you up from my mind.

I wanted you to be mine, to belong to each other
to have love that is greater than ever,
to look at your eyes and tell me we will last forever.

I compared your eyes to the evening sky,
you told me mine were the morning Sun.
I touched your lips; they tasted of cinnamon,
reminded me of sleepless nights under the morning Moon.

I opened my eyes, a sigh danced on my lips,
knowing that what I want is carved deep behind my fingertips
in the tiniest nerves beneath my skin,
where I am keeping you safe.

And never together.