Author of my dreams

I woke up in the palm of your hand and walked along the cuticle of your fingernail until I came upon the edge. I dove off into the pool of your hazel iris and swam around until I found myself floatin on the inner tube of your pupil. I climbed your tiny bottom lashes like tree branches and walked over the bridge of your nose and climbed down to the valley in between your upper and lower lips. I was curious to explore the cave of your mouth and play about on your tongue but I walked along your jawline instead. I took a nap in the dip beneath your Adam's apple in between your clavicles. When I woke I strolled down your broad chest and jumped up and down like a trampoline on your smooth skin to the rhythm of your steady breath until I was out of mine. When I was spent, I lay belly down on your left side and listened to the boom of your heartbeat play a thunderous beat beneath my pinked cheek. Then I skipped along the path of your happy trail grazing the blades of your perfectly trimmed follicles with my fingertips down to the rim of your belly button. We played hide and seek until you missed me. Your body is the playground I never wish to leave as your voice narrates the novels in my dreams while I drift peacefully in my sleep. I never want to wake from you so just leave me alone in my slumber where I keep you all to myself and you keep me safe from the pain of the world. I need you to be happy when everything else is so plain. I get lost in your mind like a labyrinth of information I am forever unable to interpret. You are like a foreign language I can never translate. You are an exotic cuisine which I can't describe the taste of. Your thoughts are the clouds that I lay upon as I desperately attempt to decipher the formula of the potion I will need to make you fall in love with me. I miss playing hop-scotch behind your pristine eyelids inside your beautiful mind. Open the cover to another story now and turn the page so we can start anew. The first fairytale ended all too soon as I wasn't finished studying your cues. My dreams miss the author that is you.