There's a simplicity to your grace.
The moment I first caught a gaze as I was lost in your face.
Admiring every beauty mark, every gesture, making sure not to miss a detail.
Probably looked like a deer in headlights; you're not just a gust, you're the prominent wind to my sail.
You speak volumes with silence, a powerful talent.
You're a gifted bird when others can't land it.
I'd journey alongside each one of your curves, take pit stops to poke at every nerve;
Just so I can see what it would take to get you on that verge.
Take a dive off your forehead to land on your lips,
Lay there in bliss while your words serve as a blanket for me to reminisce.
And as I lay there in splendor of the ideas you render,
I jot down love poems for practice so I can show you once I get better.
I even have one I wouldn't mind to display.
I'll show you it now; you let me know if it's worth something to say.
It goes:

YOUR LOVE IS AN INSTRUMENT AND I WANT TO MASTER IT'S HARMONY -
CAUTIOUSLY, PLUCK AT THE STRINGS, HOPING I'M NOT MAKING A MOCKERY.
ALL THIS IN HOPES TO MAKE A MORE CELESTIAL TUNE,
I'LL BE STEADILY PRACTICING WHILE RIDING TO YOUR HEIGHT IN A HOT AIR BALLOON.

I hope you can find pleasure in the diction I splurge.
Because you need to know you breathe life into each one of my words.