Curve of Your Lips

A Love Poem

Photo by Kamila Maciejewska on Unsplash

For now, I ache —
ache for the curve of your lips,
the hum of your voice,
the tangled threads of your hair.
In the quiet, I starve,
a restless shadow pacing pavements,
chasing the rhythm
of your footsteps,
the liquid grace of your movement.

I thirst for the sharp edge
of your laughter,
the map of your hands,
the stories etched in their lines.
I crave the moonlit glow
of your nails,
the smoothness of your skin
like a secret I want to devour whole.

I want to swallow the light
that dances in your frame,
the sharp angle of your nose,
the way your face holds
the weight of time and fire.
I want to taste the fleeting darkness
beneath your lashes,
the quiet moments
you don’t even notice.

I wander, restless,
breathing in the warm dusk,
searching for you —
for the heat of your pulse,
the spice of your soul.
I want to bury my face
in the sanctuary of your chest,
to find my fill,
my peace,
my everything.