You

I love to hold your fingers, like frail leaves dancing in the swirl of a wind.

The way they hold onto my hands, while we walk.
The way your fingers grip onto the hot tea glass balleying around the hotness of the tea.
Within my mind still lingers the moment,when your fingers moved chaotically,throbbingly and yet in an organic motion,etching out my face, their tip kissing every part of my face.
Your fingers rustle in my hair and with every fiddle of your fingers you loosen me up.
You know, i love their tender, their concern, their love and i love you for it.

I can kiss ur eyes for an eternity and it wont stil be enough.
I have seen those eyes filled with love so pure, that it falls short of words.
I want you to know that they are my muse, my courage, my passion and my lust.
I have never seen someone talk so much with their eyes.
Tell me,tell me...how do u enamour me so easily with the poetry of your eyes.
How do you disarm me of my anger, like another routine in a household.
Your eyes meditate the infuriated madness of my need for you.
They are the pacifiers,the intoxicators.

You are a poem, I can never complete
And never want to
because i know that your beauty must never be caught in the dryness of these words.
They are not breathing.
They can never be as beautiful as you.