Studying on a Sunday

I love the way your quadriceps twitch beneath the table,
awakening your patella
and asking your damaged collateral ligaments if they are feeling any stronger today.
And I love how the curvature of your corneas focuses light just before it reaches your retina,
weakening your long-distance sight
and giving me another excuse to come closer.
I love the thickened areas of stratum corneum on your palms,
summoned from layers below each time you reach for a wrench,
and how they grip onto my epidermis each time you reach for my hand.
I love the way you manipulate your vocal cords and adjust the curve of your tongue
to effortlessly transform the air in your lungs into the sweetest “Good morning,”
and how your right lateral incisor proudly stands just a slight bit forward from the rest of your smile,
and how the collection of melanocytic nevi on your skin connects to form a crescent moon,
or an elephant, or train tracks,
depending on how the neurons in my brain direct my imagination that day.
I love the way your closed fist is pressed against the angle of your mandible,
supporting your head and all the vessels that travel through the delicate tunnels within your neck
that converge as they greet the heart I loved from day one.

Featured image:
Love is not Blind