the porter's hand

Its only now that realise there is a consistency to things do. love hard, get broken hearted and start all over again. break limbs trying to climb to the highest so yell from high above its true,I fell for you. I grin at the baby in its mother's arms in the seat next to me on that long long queue at the immigration house because goodness knows when you are on my mind nothing can get me down from that high. its toothless grin its all it takes to make me roll on the floor laughing. you do that to me, every single day. even when you make me sad there is still that piece of me that cannot cry forever because know perfection is what is on my mind but you are just the next best thing.
Why did the maker design your eyes like u could be awake or asleep the difference is subtle? or your nose sharp and its bridge flat like a good enough path to rely on to get home? what about the lips that part a little in the middle to give me a peek but never enough for me to actually see anything and maybe if you chocolate skin did not seem to drip pure beauty my  eyes water when you turn to leave, what of those arms that hold me once and make me feel like in lifetimes to come I will still dream of the subtle smell of fresh the skin on ur man hands brushing kindly, shyly against mine? but you I forget quickly the smile u give, yes that small elegant smile that makes my knees weak and my heart beats like a drum in my ear.
I now know the maker to be a porter, to turn a boy into a man. to make him right from all angles, to give him the best ear to listen to demzels in distress to hear a brother's plea, your arms so strong and wide enough to send what the porter intended. I wonder if the porter will give me you for I know you now, and a I appreciate every piece of perfection and or flaw that the porter's hand made...