I like to go to bookstores and wander the poetry section. Often, I will grab a random book of poetry hoping to find a gem. I hit the jackpot with Boris Novak's poetry, especially in this poem which could be dedicated to that special someone.

Borders

We gaze at the same full moon... horizons

far away, too far from each other. Mountains

rise between us. A soft, mossy crust

grows over our footsteps. All alone

you crossed all borders and came to a foreign country,

to the homeland of my arms. Dangerously alone

I crawl past the keepers of borders: I travel to the

Northwest, where I am bitterly ashamed

of the screeching of the soul among smooth, horrible walls.

I stand before them, a dark man from the Southeast,

with a conspicuous name, shuddering, as naked as prey.

I cannot escape. Border is destiny.

Now you know: although you cross the border, you don't erase it.

Rising even higher it will measure your steps, like doubt.

A map is not an illusion. So speak more softly.

Beyond all borders your lips are my home.

-Boris Novak