Learning You

I've had this thought before,
That bodies are books,
And I want to read yours.

I want to puzzle over every scar,
Contemplating the pain behind the risen skin,
And lay beside you as you tell the stories of them all.

I want to adore every birth mark,
With its random placement,
Sometimes turning out to be the cutest punctuation for that body part.

I want to marvel the color of your eyes in sunlight,
Watching the irises glitter,
Colors rising in the centers
that we never knew were there.

I want to trace the characteristics of your face while you sleep
With feather-light fingers,
Relish the tickle of palm-frond eyelashes
And silken eyebrows,
Smile at the nose's curvature,
Let my mind wander when it comes to the mouth.

I want to learn every story behind your tattoos and piercings,
Tell me their ideas and meanings,
How did the needle feel as it penetrated your skin?

But most importantly,
I want to pick your brain.
I don't just want to know your pain,
I want to listen through each chapter stored in your memory,

Learn the tones of your voice
With every emotion
And hear the laughter that may accompany it,
Feel it rumble through your chest,
And dry the potential tears.

I want to savor this book,
Watch with eager eyes
as new chapters unfold
without thinking of it growing old,
Without thinking of the approaching end.

The sad thing is...
This is the one book 
I won't go back and revisit once it's finished.

Author's Note

I had this idea a while ago that, if you think about it, bodies are books. Our bodies tell stories in one way or another. I wanted to do a spoken word on it but, I just wasn't feeling it as I wrote it. So, last night, I wrote this somewhat sensual piece with a thought-provoking end.