Pages of my soul

My curiosity is a thief Pt. 2

Once again, my curiosity is a thief.

And though our moments together may be brief,

Mere minutes over the phone in the dead of night.

They always make my heart flutter into flight.

From the commands of my curiosity,

I will steal every bit that is you from all our interactions

To unravel and inspect every word of our conversations

I want to decode the secrets whispered in our embraces

Your hands on my back and the shapes your fingertip traces

I wish to interpret the language of your lingering touch and tender love

For you're beyond heavenly and your words are a divine message from above.

From all my studying,

I've decorated a dozen canvases with glances of you

Stolen from the corners of my eyes, (I admit) you are quite a view.

I've tried my best to capture your essence in the strokes of my art

To immortalize all the moments that swayed my heart.

From when love first took root at the back seats of the theatre

To corners hidden among books where we embraced each other.

From all my questions and ramblings,

I've filled countless pages with poached words from our talks

when we were delirious from no sleep during late hours of the clock.

From line to line, page to page, inked words spilled like confessions.

Blending into one another til' they weaved a poetic resurrection.

Of all the times, in the nights secrecy, our love we declared,

The stolen utterances of the pieces of our soul that we shared.

But my greed has yet to be sated

And my curiosity will not be abated

Not until I run out of pages and ink

And when there are no more questions I can think.