Let Me Be Yours

Eyes as comforting as warm hands,
clasping frostbitten fingers on a winter’s night.
Frozen digits knotting together,
digging tighter to the flesh for fear of losing you.

Their chocolate hue melts the knees of their observer.
Unique golden flecks dance across the irises,
Ballerinas scuffing a smooth, untouched surface.
Perfection tainted by a collision of a reflection.

You’re not a star to me. Not even a constellation.
You are the moon.
You are the shining beacon that leads to safety,
the supposedly unsinkable ship.

You wicked thing, you.

The melody of your heart sings as I,
The unsinkable ship delved deep into the sweet lyrics.
Beneath waves of sweet air escaping from petal pink lips
The ship it became a permanent fixture

On the bed of your chest.

Let me be your apple, your candle, your heart,
Let me replace the ballerinas in your healing eyes.
Let me be the woman that fell in love with the moon.

Let me be yours.