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the arc of your body matches the arc of this story

the gold of your curls match the gold of sunlight through windowspane
the blue of your eyes match the blue streams against your pale wrists
the curve of your lips match the curve of hooks, reeling me in
the jut of your collarbones match the jut of high cliffs over cold water
the cage of your ribs match the cage of fingers you have clutching my heart
the touch of your hands match the touch of butterfly wings
the cut of your hips match the cut of sculpted marble, smooth and hard
the fold of your legs match the fold of crumpled bed sheets
the trek of your feet match the trek down a winding gravel road




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