I could read you like a map and still get lost in your eyes

you are an unread map

and I'm starting to feel lost

there are too many rivers for my inexperience

but all I know is my hands are itching to travel them until I'm stranded in the bones of your wrist

your fingers curl around mine like driftwood branches and I'm starting to feel a little less lonely

I wish I could hike over the hills and planes of your back but I'm still finding myself ankle deep in the shallow pools of your collarbones

constellations map across your shoulders and I really want to run my fingers through the wildflowers blooming on your cheeks but I'm still wading my way through the canals in your cheekbones

your eyes are too deep of mahogany for me, like I'm standing in the middle of the redwood forest and I can't seem to find my way out

and here I am holding a half explored map, trying to find myself across the rest of it but I really wouldn't mind getting lost