On the day that I met you, I knew,
Something, some thought, some feeling, bloomed,
Some thickening, welling honey, through,
Which glued, that golden glaze which gild,
My eyes, my heart, my feelings, still,
Which seven years would slowly spill,
And now our hands are covered.

And all days since, I've vowed to live,
My all, your happiness, all that is,
My gift to you, accumulative,
To scorn the world, undeserving of us,
To prove to you, that white-hot dove,
That I'm not moving, my lover, my love,
I want for you to stain me.

In the morning, awake with haste,
We both agree, ignore the taste,
Of us, our wine-filled mugs, placed,
Swill, replaced with water at three,
The thirsty, the woken, the golden beam,
The bronze-capped flower, headboard between,
A kiss, just ours, both bodies; clean.

From the blue, your eyes, the thunder paints,
A cat-like man, cat scratch scar, faint,
A lifetime bite, a lifetime waits,
A tear, a tear, to tempt late fate.

A hand of honey, a hand of sand,
A honey covered, sanded hand,
Both gold and cream, with a fire-like brand,
Our rings, our fingers, that silver band.

You rest your head on my shoulder, as the sun holds back the night,
The roads are firewood behind us, the front seat blocking the light,
We’ve had warm feet all morning, our shoes cast to the sea,
And when we got tired of water, or your parents call us to tea,
We go.

Our legs are sore from the breakers, the sea preventing seat,
We walked to the end of the real world, where the lines between us meet,
And what we found when we got there, our walk under the moon,
The stars above us breaking, they whispered until soon,
We arrived.

Green expanse of grass,
fitted jam jar skirt,
picking and pulling at daisies,
fixing them into my crown.

Heavy treacle eyes,
Drowned and leaded smile,
Reaching into my hair to,
Pull the chain apart.