Thanks to that velveteen tone he saves for me And his turpentine diction, The cliches that made my eyes roll Now make my heart rush
Nonetheless, my thoughts riot as follows...
(When urged to call him something cheery something no smile can wane at like that fleck of gold in his left iris) Well, "sunshine" should suffice And Latin for that equals "Apricitas" Which phoneticized equals "Opry cheetahs" So the obvious endearment here is Opry
(When urged to call him something pure perhaps upon watching him blink or blush or blow cigarette ringlets away from babies) "Snowflake"? No, that's a slang for ***** these days So, "raindrop" Yes If Latin is dead, It sure knows how to haunt me "Gutta imbrium" Ember My little ember The only glow in all this charcoal
(When urged to call him something pretty when he's brushing his hair or allowing me to arrange red clovers in his sideburns) Hm, let's testdrive "moonlight" Let's shift into Latin, "luna lumen" Thus the nickname I bite back is Lulu
/Lulu/ While I hear darlings and dearies on the daily Why must I fail to mirror him?
(When urged to call him something sweet like the butterscotch kisses he whispers into my knuckles) Like a honeycomb Or as Ceasar would say, "cera mel" Close enough? Caramel? Carousel? Dizzy, then
We spin In silence
(When urged to call him something cute with his cap on sideways and his head in my lap and the world at my heels) Kitten Catalus Catapult Half of that backwards might as well be Tulip Two lips Two tongues Too much, yet never enough of his Smoke bomb pomegranate mouth
For heaven's sake, see? That's why I kiss instead of speak