My love, Our love,
chaos in calm whispers,
burning, yearning of that not.
A ringing bell, a belly full of butterflies,
both are only sombre, only as so holy to me.

My love, Our love,
tears young, the will not of our own,
The resting dreams of future; though the past brittle,
only a piece of the present held in the moment.

My love, Our love,
a force of the stars, a state of their decay,
Marvellous beauty implodes on itself,
so as I—prideful filled till death.
A man still a wreck, still a child,
****** to he's emotions; those first to be
expressed.

My love, Our Love,
tornado of words, hurricane of emotions,
I'm but a tree by the secrets of love
in their winds.
Summer's spring—my heart skips a beat
in the heat of the moment.

My love, Our love,
wild, free as wings stretched out to the skies,
A tender goodbye, by the end of the night.
Sweet lullaby; a resounding sound.
Orchestra of our love.

My love, Our love—Us.