We played cartographers,
As the sun climbed up
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