I give her the blueprints to
My Death Star, and reaching
The core of my love is as easy
As bulls-eying womp rats in
Her T-16 back home; not much
More than two metres
From my heart.

Her eyes are the exact shade of
Force that an Ilum Crystal
Powering a light sabre
Emits when ignited,
And her hands can choke a
Weak man from a hundred
Imperial Standard Yards

Away. She's Leia to my Solo,
And the Vader tattoo on the
Back of her leg
Stares at me when she tip-toes
Past me, shower fresh and
Towel-less, inviting me over
To the Dark Side

Of sci-fi, *** and rock'n roll,
And I know from the
Bottom of my everything of
Everythings that she is
Indeed the *******
Droid I've been
Looking for.