We are lying in bed again. The sun is dancing over your skin, small beams of light highlighting the curves and bumps, scars and moles that I have come to know so well.
I have learned to documents these moments like they are my last.
I memorize the rise and fall of your chest, the goose bumps that seem to always grace your sides, the small dip in the center of your back.
You say I talk so sweet, that I have a way with words but you take my breath away so frequently that I’m nearly choking on my tongue.
You make me feel so alive, with your unabashed openness, how vulnerable you allow yourself to be. I know all your quirks, all the sweet spots hidden in your skin.
I know your lungs fail you when I graze my teeth or nails across places you only let me see, I know your vocal chords tumble when I linger at the dip in your neck,
I know your ribcage trembles when I show you the beauty in your insecurities.