we are here and the world around is brave and broad. we are but mapmakers, darling. we are but adventurers in our own miniature universe. your touch is a compass, your smile the star by which i chart my course they guide me when I wander too far and lose the way they tug me gently back. I follow the roads of your veins up to to your chest, where beats a heart that counts the days and nights in our world. our world- our perfect, private world, where we do nothing but live and live and live. let the sun never set on our throneless reign of this ink-line kingdom. your fingertips trace the cartography of me, drawing the delicate world onto parchment skin. I reach for you to do the same, yearning to memorize everything you are. i want to touch the lines of your scars, following them like paths to places unknown. I want my hands to remember your face, the valleys of lip, jaw, and throat. beneath my fingers is a world i could only have dreamed of. there is adventure here, my love- an ignorance that intimidates and intoxicates. we follow the dotted lines. with eager, untiring feet for there is promise of a home at the end a place where roads converge and rivers meet the sea. a place to stop and look back at at how far we've come. a place for us. we will be home.