Sorry, it's kinda long:
The Mountains (My Love)
I
He is like the mountains.
The mountains that jut up,
boldly taunting the sky,
in the most reverent silence.
The mountains that surround us
and the places that we love,
the places where we love.
II
He is like the mountains,
for he is most beautiful in the early morning,
with the fog curling her tail around his feet,
the grey light softening his lines,
smoothing and hazing his edges,
his hands creeping and grazing my skin,
like the faded ferns that sway
and brush the mirrored surface
of the river.
III
He is like the mountains,
for he is equally beautiful at dusk.
Color flooding his face, his eyes,
then, the pale light of the moon
glinting on his sideways smile.
The deeper into night
the more mysterious he becomes,
a glance that causes me to lose my sanity,
beckoning me with a plead that I cannot refuse.
IV
He is like the mountains,
fully satisfying in the moment,
yet when I leave
I feel entirely empty,
only wanting, aching, to return,
to breathe him in
and be completely submerged
in every chasm of his being.
V
He is the mountains.
I can only stand in awe,
looking up, jealous
of how he kisses the clouds
yet clings so tight to the ground,
but he has no ending or beginning.
I cannot have all of him,
I cannot hold him in my arms.
I can only stand in awe.
The Mountains (My Love)
I
He is like the mountains.
The mountains that jut up,
boldly taunting the sky,
in the most reverent silence.
The mountains that surround us
and the places that we love,
the places where we love.
II
He is like the mountains,
for he is most beautiful in the early morning,
with the fog curling her tail around his feet,
the grey light softening his lines,
smoothing and hazing his edges,
his hands creeping and grazing my skin,
like the faded ferns that sway
and brush the mirrored surface
of the river.
III
He is like the mountains,
for he is equally beautiful at dusk.
Color flooding his face, his eyes,
then, the pale light of the moon
glinting on his sideways smile.
The deeper into night
the more mysterious he becomes,
a glance that causes me to lose my sanity,
beckoning me with a plead that I cannot refuse.
IV
He is like the mountains,
fully satisfying in the moment,
yet when I leave
I feel entirely empty,
only wanting, aching, to return,
to breathe him in
and be completely submerged
in every chasm of his being.
V
He is the mountains.
I can only stand in awe,
looking up, jealous
of how he kisses the clouds
yet clings so tight to the ground,
but he has no ending or beginning.
I cannot have all of him,
I cannot hold him in my arms.
I can only stand in awe.
