If comparison were forced,
No flower would match your beauty.
Every rose would pale
Trying to meet the measure
Of that which I see,
Of how much you mean to me

There is no greater pleasure,
Than pressure,
When our two bodies meet

Singing your praise

In my ocean, you are the tides
The only thing to stir to life
Rivers of crimson within,
Areas grey & white
Were I the fish, you could eat
Forgo a day, for an eternity
You could cast from my soul,
Wade my streams