although your skin is sweet i won’t call you chocolate
and even though the bible says you were made from the dirt i cannot believe that
your body is Jupiter, is Saturn.
your skin made in the image of a sunset
your fingers more gentle then dying yellow leaves falling to their final resting place
your hair trying to compete  with the night in its depth and yet, somehow a color so beautiful
i don’t think there’s a name for it yet
your voice a song
a french song
an old song
a love song a
old french love song
dear boy who’s eyes are made of stardust
who’s lips are my addiction
arms my protection
dear boy who’s eyes are made of stardust
i haven’t yet found
the right metaphors to describe your beauty
but ****
when the gods made you
i know the universe had to be their muse
dear boy who’s eyes are made of stardust i know there’s not a lot of poems out there for people who look like you but let this be the first
let this one be yours