on holding the man i love (and taking up the bed at night to do so)

like a game
of sardines
i fold
in to your decline
stretching my fingers
over any flesh
i can find
and claim
as some wary explorer
with a tiny flag 'i was here!' 'i discovered this!'

in these small moments i try
to memorise everything
i venture,
taking frantic notes
of scars, angles, textures-
love measured in your very form,
life measured in these little journeys.