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My Beloved

It’s been seasons,
Yet I haven’t missed her—
For you are the garden
Where my heart now rests.

I.
My flower, distant in miles but near in step,
You bloom in the chambers of my heart,
Rooted deep in my mind’s fertile soil,
A perennial presence in my soul’s quiet plot.

II.
Your voice—honeyed and warm—
Sends peace cascading through my veins.
When you sigh, "I miss you,"
Time stumbles. My pulse becomes a wild drum.

III.
In our sacred nights, I cradle you,
A sculptor marveling at his masterpiece:
The silk of your pink thighs,
The poetry of your curves,
Your mouth’s golden nectar—
A taste sweeter than stolen butter.

IV.
You are my torch in the trembling dark.
With you, shadows become steps I dare to take.
My sun. My dawn. My photosynthesis.
You turn my fears into light.

V.
Now, as night drapes the sky,
I trace constellations in your eyes—
Dark as the cosmos, bright as streetlights,
Twin stars I’d orbit until time collapses.
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