The Language Of You

I have learned the language of your breathing How silence pools between your ribs When wonder finds you How your pulse becomes a question Pressed against my palm I want to know you The way rain knows stone Patient, persistent, wearing through To the softness underneath Oh tell me what it means This hunger that rewrites itself Each time you turn toward me There are geographies I've mapped In the hollow of your throat The architecture of your shoulders Where I gather my strength each time Your laughter spills like wine across the hours I am undone by small things The way you say my name As if it were a place you're trying to return to The way your fingers trace constellations on my skin That only, only you can read Oh Love Love Love I think it's this The stubborn wanting to understand the impossible country of another To learn its dialect, its weather To become fluent in its mysteries and still remain forever Present Before What cannot be known