Phosphorescent, a being of light, my love,
my thoughts are heavy with you. Heavy like
your soft eyes, gazing down into mine, glazed
with love, shining with perfect honesty. Heavy
like the strands of your hair filling with water,
drops clinging to the curves of each curl, I
wish I was liquid, to trickle over your skin so
slowly, to slip along all of the most minute
indentations and convolutions of your body.
Heavy like the air in my lungs, when my name is
on your lips, when my lips are on your neck, when
our limbs are tangled and languid and warm.
Heavy like your lavish language, filled with
luscious words of love, carrying more weight
than an entire library of promises, because
I know, darling, that you mean to keep every
syllable.