The Language of the Body

The language of the body is the soul given flesh,

and my fingertips graze with an inward eye

those quiet, whispered words that paint your story.

Wrapped around your waist are lines of prose elegant and precise,

your shoulders feather-light,

your bones the keystone to a church.

The language of your body is the soul at rest,

And I will seek to stop the world from crumbling so you might dream within

Those ancient halls —

Of what, no one knows.

But our imaginations are the doors that guide you,

Our wishes, the wallpaper you decorate with.

The language of your body is the soul reflected,

to fall for you is to love the world,

but I am not ready to see so much,

to discover and reveal these open secrets you share.

But I can learn the words.