her hair is the color of chestnuts, falling from the trees as the autumn leaves flutter in the wind.
every night we lie together, i stroke her hair, secure in her warmth and making a home in her presence.
her smile is heart-stopping. her burgundy lipstick contrasts her teeth; perhaps she might chuckle in addition to her grin.
i want to forget my troubles, for she has forgotten hers. and it shows.
her touch is comfort itself. she'll put my arm around me in the park, or hold my hand in front of judgmental strangers.
whether her olive hands are at my hips or at my cheeks, it is a reminder of her gentle love and safety.
her lips are the taste of heaven. they are sweet, like her, full of love and tenderness. she'll recite sonnets in our kisses while our intimacy strengthens.
we are locked in our own love, and we threw away the key.