His eyes are a metaphor,
A conceit, fantasy

No shakespearean sonnet
Even a lyric, will suffice
To describe the masculine he carries

His smile, the greatest curve,
All simile will be denied

Haikus and couplets,
Even the long ones
Will not be enough

His laughter is a song,
A perfect harmony and melody

He is neither a hyperbole
Or full of irony
Instead he is perfect rhyme

He is a walking poetry
A personification of aesthetics