A breath for a bird,
To keep her wings afloat.
A guide for a smile,
To keep it going for the while.
I need the prettiness of her aged beauty
To mimic the skies never to part,
When I keep it together.
I feel the worship of my hands, upon her skin.
There is fire raised, from each touch
To forge the mirror for her viewing.
I keep vanity sheltered,
Of herself in the stars.
I keep her eyes upon the very skies,
Of her heart in the dark
Mesmerizing walls of our abode.
She finds confinement in belonging,
Dressed as she is, in garments of white.
I see where a kiss was buried
In a neck, crude in height.
I love what should not be loved,
Of a woman with fewest treasures,
Except for herself.
Yet, my breath is what faces her,
My tears are what wet the Earth,
As my trembling hands make up each sound
Of my thudding heart.
I hold her in my lungs
As I hold my breath.
To keep her away
From certain death.