There’s a trail tattooed on your skin where my fingers have ventured over your shoulder and across your collar bone. I want to travel your body, write my own map. Follow your bread crumb trail of sun spots splattered on your back, guided by the North Star freckles on your right arm. I want to know every story of every scar as deeply as if they were a river I could swim in, I want to conquer every peak of your body over and over again. I want to feel at home on your mouth, know I’m welcome when the bells of my name from your voice toll. I want to be the light that spreads in the darkness of your heart in the cave that is your ribcage. I want to breathe in every stalagmite of smoke that leaves your lungs and tell love stories to the moon in your eyes. The arches of your feet are valleys I want to sleep in and I want to press every wild flower I see in the crevices that your joints make into a dictionary of words that don’t yet exist that are the explanation of how my tongue feels on your teeth. There’s a trail tattooed on your skin that my fingers will never stop treading.
(I came, I saw, I conquered)