The constellations I can't
fathom into shapes
scattered in the stars of
your eyes
are mesmerizing.
Your touch burns
in the sweetest of ways;
a fire
That consumes me
and I don't want to put it out.
Your scent lingers
in every pore
in the walls of this house,
enveloping me;
the most comforting blanket.
You, my dear,
are my metaphor,
composed of
the sweetest words I could find,
and yet they still don't do you justice.
