"Separate or combine, I ask you one last time. Did I hold you too tight? Did I not let enough light in?" -- The XX, Chained

you are the ink that dribbles into my mind
flowing out my fingertips

into the words I write

the soft echo that deafens the chaotic thoughts 

that cloud the mountains 

of the heart at night

your words
your kisses
your eyes
terrify and soothe me

but for today be my muse, my poet
and I will be forever yours, 

your poetry