When God made you he must have been writing a sonnet
because you are a poem
You are a masterpiece
and sweetheart don't cry
you'll make the paint bleed
your colors will run
and your face is too beautiful to be distorted by sadness
and dear you are a poem I have yet to write
because you are a feeling I've yet to feel
and I'd like to feel your body against mine
And I'd like to feel the way you speak
and I've read four dictionaries and have yet to find a word that describes
the beauty that surrounds you
It's not perfect
I've tried perfect
but your beauty is something that will never be porcelain
it is the beauty that comes from being dragged face first through the mud
it is a beauty that comes with scars
but don't hide them
because I'll count them like the stars
and tell you God made each one
like an eraser mark
trying to take out the parts of you He thought the Devil created
and you are a song
I'd like to sing
because when you swear
it is honey off your lips
but when I swear it is like spitting sand
and I know bad poetry will get me *******
but for the ones that matter you have to bleed onto the pages
so take this ink as my blood
and revere it like communion wine
but never get drunk on my love
because I never want to see you suffer the hangover
and take my words like bread
but eat more than just my thoughts
because I want you to live,
I love you