Her pale flesh trickling rainy vibrations ,
like watching fingers ran along a piano
   In the lense of an X-ray.

Goosebumps pricked and curling,
Her eyes were like self-contained half-moons upon half-moons builded on the budded rose of her lips
That split in a pink smile. The smile you have at that age, fauxly

assured and posing confidence.

Her face is ascribed to God over her mother, her father
  or me.
Her faith is beatless and with a kiss soft as a wrist-binded ribbon,

She said she stores all her faith into me.

A gusto glee that's marinated in the foggy dreams of
Too many days to count, or to care about anymore.

I loved her, and for the first time I believed someone when they said they loved me back.

I could hardly wait to sleep that night with her in my arms
for the very first time.