cartographers

We played cartographers,

As the sun climbed up

And slipped

In, and over our skin

Took it in turns to learn each other holistically

We played cartographers in the black hours.

Beauty cannot be seen,

Beauty is what mouths find in the darkness.

We lay there, electric.

Beauty is what lips seek, in good faith, and trembling.

What are mouths for, if not to love with?

We danced while we knew we could,

And then some.

We won’t grow old together,

We’ll meet in another world.

And as we age in this one,

Ancient, and far apart;

I’ll smile at my daughter and tell her

These aren’t wrinkles,

These are laughter lines

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About hereisthemoment

I write. Sometimes I don't.

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