snapping fingers for each other

You are blessed, you gladly become a compass to the other

You listen to silent spaces, release it afterwards to choirs across horizons

You are like homing pigeons; bring stories home to read together

You colonize, playing center to fragile corners of the other

You are hunters, of lost treasures in frayed pockets and laughter in worse moments

You light flames to warm hands on the most fragile nights

You let in spring filled wafts through cracks so it can carry away tears

You paint, your canvas seeps into the deepest ink of your hearts

You memorize footsteps, knowing the weary from the swagger

You pretend to laugh, at broken jokes

and cheer on at silly games

Your hands learn places that become your secret dwellings in each other

You go to war just so you can hibernate into a hug

You are foodies, lay out dinner in two places and then eat from the other’s bowls

You craft compositions, to string and hum into dreams

You decorate each other’s gasps like rain drops embellish roof tops

You are in perpetual love, the kind that inspires poetry

You rearrange life, snapping fingers for each other