I will always remember your face
in an orange hue
from streetlights, scattered
all down your hazel eyes,
and a slight overbite
exposing your skinny teeth.
I've loved you better than the rest:
longer and deeper than any great canyon,
and farther, until the edge of doom.
In a humid summer shade,
surrounded by creaking swing sets
and shredded wood chips
you told me, "I'll never stop loving you."
Street lights and park benches our cathedrals,
the hood of a beaten down Honda our tower of stone,
where I came to love you most.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 3:22 AM UTC
I will always remember your face
in an orange hue
from streetlights, scattered
all down your hazel eyes,
and a slight overbite
exposing your skinny teeth.
I've loved you better than the rest:
longer and deeper than any great canyon,
and farther, until the edge of doom.
In a humid summer shade,
surrounded by creaking swing sets
and shredded wood chips
you told me, "I'll never stop loving you."
Street lights and park benches our cathedrals,
the hood of a beaten down Honda our tower of stone,
where I came to love you most.
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