I'm sorry if I'm not attentive
when you tell me about your day.
I laid awake last night thinking about
the color of your eyes.
I know that sounds kinda lame
and maybe it is.
But I don't mind -
As long as it lets you know
the magnitude of your beauty,
your loveliness,
your grace.
You are porcelain, I am metal.
I don't want to see you to break.
But if you do and you pierce me with sharp edges, know that I will be okay.
You are Belle's rose. And I am the beast that feels honored to hold you.
Though there are thorns to protect you, I won't break them off. I'll encase you in glass to protect you more than those thorns ever could.
You are the melody of the ocarina, soft and sweet; a heavenly lullaby of sad tones.
If you knew of my desire to drain you of your tears, they'd fall into tranquil waves that we could sail over with ease.
Laughing as the breeze kisses our shoulders.
I'll tell you everything will be okay.
I'll make the most idealistic promises, and keep every single one of them.
You know all these adjectives that should never be used to describe you, yet you accept them,
when I can't find a word in the dictionary exquisite enough to correlate with you.
So if you wake up one morning
and don't like your reflection,
let me be your mirror.
And I will tell you of the beauty I see.

-k.d.