i saw her face in the bricks
just like how i saw God in the streelights
her smile was in the flourish of the stone, chiseled from a mason's hand
her eyes reminded me of what i believe heaven to be like
her hair also, reminiscent of the woodwork along the sharp edges of the stained glass found in cathedrals
their spires like sharp teeth, kissing the cityscape with elegance and vengeance
making sure no one doubted their reach, higher than most and closer to heaven than many will ever get.
she's the closest to heaven i may ever get.

if your heart was a garden, all the flowers are jealous of your beauty.
these botanical masterpieces cannot compete with the way you look to me.
if your heart was a garden, i'd spend all my time there,
cultivating the colors and composing symphonies of the sweetest of melodies,
finding the music in our dissonence,
letting each note hang like the fruit off the apple tree
in our front yard.
if your heart was a garden, i'd bring you so many flowers till you were bursting with life,
the birds and the bees, humming an even tune
in the joyous breeze.
if your heart was a garden, i'd stand in the window and marvel at your beauty in the sunrise.
Your heart is a garden and I love it.

if i were to create a space for you to say the things you want to say,
what would you want it to look like?
would it be a dark, single bed, room with maybe that lamp that used to be in your grandmother’s living room when you were five?
cause there will be shadows and i need to know if you’d be ok with that.
or would it be a loft, up above your parents bedroom,
where the sun light glistens off the hard wood floors,
dancing with the dust that jumps up to greet you?

i’d love to plant you a garden
if you promise to walk through it gently,
if you promise not to shoo the bees away,
and to stop and smell the magnolia’s.
if i put a stream running through it,
would you dangle your feet in it?
the garden would love to know and
i even more.