You,your fingers would dance over my skin like letters bouncing in poetry, your eyes would skim mine for the possibility of prose in your name, for words that you would seek comfort in.  Why do you look at me as if you were waiting for me to paint you in syllables and poetic phrases to beautify you? Was it not enough that i signed off every emotion in my heart to your name? My love, my wrath, my every figment of existence, every thread that i hang upon—all in your name? Your name is sprawled against my heart. My heart may be in pieces, but every vein spills blood with your name dripping off it. You've consumed me completely, love, and you search a poetification of yourself in my eyes? Here. have it on paper. for permanence.