I know that sometimes my words are unclear
I can't speak outside of paper, ink, and lines because of fear.
You are the first snowfall of the year
Your skin reflects light more beautifully than the copious blankets of snow
You are here and my mind stutters, my heart races, and time begins to slow
I looked through the bus window and the sky was like Starry Night by Van Gogh.
The inky canvas was illuminated by countless stars everywhere
Even the blinking windmill lights added a silent kind of beauty to the air
The scene was grand; all I could do was stop and stare
I glanced over and saw your sleeping face
I didn't want to wake you, so I held my breath just in case
For once everything felt like it was in place
Your eyelashes cast shadows across your cheekbones
Sometimes I can't believe that I am your own
Describing you through words and rhymes is a skill I will never hone
I'm not sure how much more I could emphasize
God himself could not even dream about imitating the celestial blue-grey of your eyes
Any clouds or storms conjured would be nothing but terrible lies
Neither the churning sea nor the swirling fields of grey would suffice
Although I wouldn't call it a vice,
I have caught myself staring more than twice