It's easier for me to be crude and ******,
then talk about the weather and how the sunlight hits your face perfectly,
your green eyes shining like grandidierite,
a rare sight,
which captivates me,
and I stare to long,
rushed breath and rosy cheeks.

How your shape silhouettes on the fresh dewed grass,
stretched towards the heavens,
as if the angels were carrying your soul back home,
back where you belong,
amongst the infinite cosmos,
dancing with the stars.