The map to your apartment.
The map back to mine.
The map of your body.
The map of the city we live in (always changing)
The distance between your place and mine.
The words you speak and how i always cut them up or glue them as i wish.
There are maps everywhere if you really look.
The map of your warm breath on cold mornings.
The map of your hands, and how you never know what to do with them.
And i know one day you and i will be gone and all these roads will stop working, they’ll end with us.
But right now all the maps of my life are leading to you.
Even the ones with no way out.
“Where do you want to go?” you ask.
As if i wasn’t already there.
As if you weren’t the place i had been looking for all my life.