My love is irrational.
I can’t explain it.
I’m sick as a dog.
And can’t contain it.

I can’t hide it.
Nor hold it.
I won’t dent it.
Neither controls it.

Still, she knows me.
She knows my ins.
She knows my outs.

She knows the lies.
The whys and denies.
She knows my doubts.

She’s the Guinevere
To my Lancelot.
She is my own.

She’s the reason
Why I even despise
Being alone.

She’s so special
She’s got my world.
Every rhyme
Every line
Every thought.

Time’s for her
Plans are with her
She’s my cain
She’s my staff
And all I’ve got

It’s sensational
Inspirational
She’s the queen
I want to hold.

She’s my fire
My passion.
She’s my timeless tale
Of the purest of gold.

She’s the peace, I’m to seek.
A goal, I want to reach.
That jab straight to the gut.

She’s the one, my only one.
With a nectar’s taste.
A taste that even I can not touch