Domesticity

Your gaze is the death of me,
yet your mouth brings me back to life
and I finally get to be
all from my promise in Paradise.

Another day and I'm here in your arms
as something I just happen to do.
I doubt the world has any qualms
to this, to me or to you.

And you don't even know the spell
that is only yours to carry
to make everything go so well
as the train upon the ferry.

The hours when I can't think of a line
that makes sense or fits
end with your hand crossed in mine,
a rhyme moaned to your lips.

What is the fun of this game
if both parties don't get to win -
if a song isn't heard from the name
we allowed to go under the skin?

04/11/2018