Hennaed

You became the muse of my soul and the oracle of my heart, even though we're oceans apart as you're written all over my heart, like henna blossoms.  
 
Your beauty transcends all, above and beyond, and I still hum canticles in the dark with the hope that they find you, yearning for me as I ache for you.  
 
You're like an untouched sunset, unseen but familiar at the same time as you radiate the blending of hues that provide light upon the dawning of a new day.  
 
I'm most beautiful when I'm in love with you, and delicately shedding my insecurities like a cheap love song, which you either love or hate, knowing that our fate lies in your hands.  
 
I want to peel back your insecurities to unravel your anxiety, and pour my love into those tiny fractures to ensure you feel the raw nakedness of our love as you peel me open from the inside out.  
 
To break apart at the seams only to realise that we've been rebirthed, in the hands of one that won't let you break beyond, breaking point.  
 
People get caught up in the theoretics of emotions via mistaken identities, and swallowing the blues, and we stitch ourselves together in the hope that our insides won't start to explode upon others like an asteroid, imploding upon the centre of gravity.   
 
The sudden hush of our shifting seasons penetrates my heart as I taste the fragrance of your scar tissue, and wishes that were casted upon stars, once upon a time.  
 
And still... our dreams quiver upon the ambience of soft moist redolent petals whilst I chant soft whispers of the paean within the depths of your soul to enable you to identify me, as your own.

You remain hennaed upon my heart & soul.