I write poems about beauty;
Your name is on every line.
And how your pretty little fingers
Were made to perfectly fit into mine.

I write songs about perfection;
Your name echoes all through.
And how this hellish life on earth
Seems so heavenly with you.

I try to form perfect rhymes,
But to what mere words can I rhyme thee?
For 12 lines are too few to put into words
How much you mean to me.