Of Books and Angel Wings

Collector

I am a collector,

an expert sleuth in disguise.

Seeking out the little moments,

that make me fall,

maddeningly,

manically,

magically,

in love with you.

Did you know your eyes shimmer, insanely, when you smile?

Eyelashes fluttering, like butterfly wings,

brushing blushing, apple cheeks,

and the constellations of freckles,

scattered across the heavens of your features.

I take mental snapshots of the moments when your fingers quiver,

hovering over the long span of desert,

that is my skin,

aching for the cool respite of your touch.

I can recall, vividly,

Every time you wrinkle your nose, when you sneeze.

Or, accidentally, snort...

because I said something mildly funny,

for once.

I remember, all the times of you with dark circles under your eyes,

reaching dark hands down to that, still,

dazzling smile,

your hair mussed up from fretful fingers,

arms still open, ready to be a safe harbor,

if need be.

I am a collector of moments.

sometimes I sit and stare at them,

the beautiful disaster of memories,

of the ambrosia of your love,

and can come to only one conclusion.

I am an unrepentant addict,

a fanatic,

a worshipper,

the greatest lover, of all things,

that make you,

You.