The Maze
My mind is an art-gallery maze,
walls hung with canvases of us,
kissing in dusk, laughing in light.
Each corner holds a different frame
some reckless, some tender
all painted in the language of our love.
I wander these corridors each day,
not searching for an exit but a way deeper in;
every step opens another room of you.
I sit before each canvas in silence,
letting brushstrokes breathe you back to me,
until your touch is a warmth that lingers on my skin.
The hours fold like paper wings around these halls,
seasons pass beyond the doors I do not seek.
I am a keeper here,
custodian of our color and shade
lighting candles in the corners
where your laughter sleeps.
This maze is no prison but a promise,
its turns are vows,
its frames a covenant of us.
I learn the map of you until
my name is written in the paint,
and time itself comes to rest upon our frames.
So let the world call for me if it must
I will only smile and trace another edge of you.
For how could I leave a place
where every wall is home,
and every turn, eternal,
leads me deeper into love?
- A.P
