I Want to Call Him My Muse

I want to call him my muse,
write verses down his back and press my lips against them so I can taste his poetry..

Find trails in his palms that tell me his story...
Get lost in his eyes....he'll leave me searching.

I want to call him my muse,
write similes on his chest so I may compare his heartbeat to thunder...

Find songs within the silences we indulge in...
Get lost within the memories he revisits.

I want to call him my muse,
outline his hips with syllables so I may measure them just to my liking...

Find imagery in the scars he has worn so proudly...
Get lost within the arch of his back...as he pushes enough to come find me.

I want to call him my muse,
draw stars above his lips so I may ride his shooting star to Venus...

Find ecstasy at his fingertips...and remain enchanted by the way my body fits so well with his...

I want to call him my muse,
before my verses cease to entertain me....

I want to call him my muse,
create reality through the ink and write my name with his...and find out that my happily ever after was retained in his poetry...