Love Poem rewrites (again)

Another late night, another redrafted love poem. I think I'm beginning to see a glimmer of hope for these poems ...

Love Poem No. 3

Now I am here to map
you, my first elevation
must be the mounds
of your lips, the care
with which they cradle
teeth; your tongue flicks
in friendly gusts.

I mark my parchments
with your real dimensions,
disregarding the flow
and ebb of adipose.

Your hands challenge
cartography - they fly
to investigate the world:
I have to vector them,
mark each finger with a symbol -
here be steeples, castles,
urban sprawls.

I could finish my map,
but I think I prefer
to be folded by you tight
inside your elbows.