In the center of your mouth, under your warm tongue, is the home of all my designs and desires. For the taste of you, what wouldn’t I build? A future rapt with happiness, taut with promise. For the touch of you, what wouldn’t I destroy? I am no diplomat, I am not peaceable, but for the slowness and sureness of your breathing at night I too will keep a patient pace. The blueprints written between your hands and mine shine with future work. I graft a shelter against your goodness, prop myself up in the safety of your heart; you grow me stronger, prouder, absolved in the soft structure of your love.