Her eyes were fiery
While her lips peeled away
Her sun was setting
But her colors never fade
When she bites she is bitter
But when she smiles she is sweet
Like a nectarine emblem
She’s the fruit of life’s tree.

I wonder if I really am kind hearted.
Most people think it’s true,
But maybe I’m just afraid of being mean-
Maybe I’m afraid of being you.

She watches me
as I illuminate her
head on the pillow,
still cornering the daylight
into the rear window.

She lays, outstretched,
filling the back seat of the car
with unwrapped thoughts,
too deep;
my rays can only reach so far.

Her sleepy eyelids blink
at me in question.
A suggestion?
I hide my face behind a cloud.
"'till soon," I whisper.
I'm only just a surface moon.

You're a beautiful poem, but I'm not the verse who fits to you .