They said your face lit up
When you saw me in our village today.
Apparently you smiled, and
Your blue eyes illuminated.

They said, the other day,
You looked to the sand, and smiled
When you saw that
I was sitting watching the sea.

They said some things
That I hope to be true, however,
I must be realistic, and avoid
Falling for you.

I find that the poems I write about you
lack the impressive metaphors and stanzas.
They are less raw, less ******, less bleak,
than the lines I wrote previously.

I find that the poems I write about you
are half empty, or half full. There is a void
in my brain, because I'm not sure
if your eyes are more of a cerulean or a sapphire.

I used to have another "blue eyed wonder,"
although now, in hindsight, I see that
he was not wondrous, he was unexceptional,
and you are more worthy of that title.  

But, my poems are suffering at your ubiquity,
as I cannot find the suitable analogies. And it
makes me question how true we could be.

If I can tell you my innermost feelings in a heartbeat,
is this a sincere, an unfeigned, a dependable love?
Or just another opportunity for me to get hurt?

Unity and the desire thereof-
dissipates *******-
and returns the-
Sunshine in your eyes

spinning top life
in all its glory
keeps giving birth

I love you
not because
you're good looking

I love you
not because
you're caring

I love you
not because
you dote on me

I love you
not because
your smiles are sweet

I love you
not in lust
of your crevice
or orifice
or skin

I love you
because
without you
I feel

incomplete within.

Once they were remembered
As beauteous blue-eyed angels
Who assiduously
Served the creator
Once thought of as the holy ones
Who shone the brightest
Free will and they chose evil
The fallen and their father
Whose actions
Gave way to torment
All the unpardonable sins
They committed
In the age
When atrocity prevailed

Now all they seek
Is retribution
Sparse and angry
Gliding in the skies
With rayless halos
And ruptured wings
Listen as God cries
At what has become
Of his creation.

One comfort that I find
Is that when there is no music in my ears,
                                               or in the air,
There is always music
                                     in my heart.