My love’s eyes are nothing like the sun
but like the deepest ocean into which I long to fall.
Surely he is no longer the snake charmer of words,
it is the flustered silences that showed me how to love;
and a voice that sends me into the heavens above.
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on his head
begging for my fingers to run through them –
and softening to drop in curls instead.
Butchers knives cannot cut me any more
Than I would running my finger along his jaw
But with bleeding hands resting on his face
I will hold it close forevermore
And still, no words could ever describe something so rare;
such beauty with which nothing could ever compare.