By the morning, your image will be everywhere,
smiling in the pixel of every screen,
traced into all tangible fibers
that my curious hands brush along.

I see flashes in your iris,
memorandums to hold
so I won't forget the longing
that begins like candlelight,
a faint glow to warm our pores
before true fire licks flesh.

And the way your lips reached for
and so sweetly tangled with hers
like tiny fluttering wings that
only calm upon secretly meeting.

I am not immune to your charms
or being a potential fragment that
makes up your careful collection,
names and skin have been curated
and maybe I was never that special.

But I don't think you know
what it's like to be in your eyes,
how two unique novas can make me
feel like an entire universe's center.

I still stay and scrawl messages,
mark astronomy with codes you know.

There were differences between
rainbows and bright stars,
one bursts with immediate radiance,
the other remains a mysterious
beauty hanging in perpetual distances,
neither can be held or touched.

By the morning, your image will
be all that I want to know,
burning me at times,
soothing the angles you trace,
memorandums stitched to fibers
no one else could ever reach,
places you'd never want me to forget.

The curve along inner thighs where
I licked and anticipated your nectar,
beginning like an awakened river
trickling before turning into a torrent.

The signature flavor upon your lips
that echoed her in ways hidden,
in secret tanglings untied
where I once thought I could
forever clutch your tender core.

But I have no immunity
when locked with your eyes,
when two gazing orbs make
me feel like a universe's center.

I know I cannot be
as beautiful as her,
as clever with language as him,
as playfully charming as others.

I still stay and scrawl messages,
mark astronomy with patterns
that touch you and you alone
but never alleviate the aches you left
to swelter along this lonely skin.

There were differences between
rainbows and bright stars,
one will burst and sprawl out
with the immediacy of all colors,
radiant parallels never meeting.

The other is more beautiful to me,
a loving and halcyon era,
even if I cannot touch you.

By the morning, your image
will be all that I want to hold close,
hearing you in the wind's smallest whisper,
the most innocent string of words
tangled and rearranged to
become more intimate, more possible

To go beyond that misty border between
friendship and memorandums that lovers scribble,
instead of being a souvenir to feel
pulsating within your delicate palm.

Flashing through you all the longings
that begin in me like candlelight,
a faint flicker brushing pores
before true fire licks flesh.

Like kneeling between your thighs
as they yield, as they part,
where nectars were reached
in your searing chambers
with my careful touch,
the sweetness my tongue
wishes to forever savor.

Even when tasting you
like a signature penned
upon my lips

I know I cannot be as special
or soft as her when she nears,
or as dominant and forceful as him.

But you remain my beautiful center,
the first siren's unmatched song,
the first exploding rainbow
and most mysterious nova.