The stillness of your stare could lessen a million mountains to crumbled bedrock. Infamous by now, the wisp of your presence as you saunter into a room could make even silk textures envy. Poets of man designate ‘sensual’ as your most appropriate adjective. Who can blame them? You reward time with a soul so illuminated by sincerity, the wayward wanderer would return home to refuge at your command. With enchantment, you draw the panic of an earthquake from my nervous limbs and you soften my actioned figure to play-dough.
Ears bear no purpose if not romanced by the lyrics of your words. Similarly, I bear no purpose if not to bathe in the depths of your deepest waters and ascend to heights beyond your bluest skies.
Who is it that pleased the eye of your maker so, that spirit would create a being as satisfying as you? Your mind, expansive enough to become my religion. In your presence, life’s greatest sin it should be to look away from your gaze.
Here, me testify — my weakness for you has stolen all of my days.