(no subject)
didn't you know that there are words resting upon your brow and tangled in your hair? I wish to reach out and pick them off like berries... I fumble through the woods and rest upon your jawline where peace dances with sadness... I launch myself across your lands to search for the sweetest and rarest of phrases... I climb curves of your face and breathe the poetic breeze that caresses my fingers... I wish to lay with you and sip the words off of your skin... I wish to travel for miles and get lost among your meadows where libraries of words grow in patches... I wish to be your student and write all the books scattered across your body... Let me be your librarian and tend your gardens...