Quietly, I slipped into a vale.
Where the ash stands stagnant as my locket memories, and the gravity of those peel reeds back from an ancient spruce I watered long ago.
Though he embowed, wounds rewarded the vehement flesh with bark. I ******* soul’s decay and sip a silent vice to subside the grief, dip a whetted shoot into ruby waters.
On that welkin, I rubricate the evening mist in scarlet poetry  as spindles of bough became lines on a paper sky, sketching and swelling with childlike-visionary.
Until I stood on the brink of a parapet in a dance with death. I realized there weren’t any shapes all along, but only clouds.

His perfectly proportioned lips
Are amply appetizing
Sensational to embrace
A mind-blowing rollercoaster
Of enamoredness
His spectacular vernacular
Etched on the vivacious veneer

His features are highly striking
And deliciously dreamy
Tuscan sun skin, his eyeballs
Gorgeously glowing, flowing
With dark chocolate honey designs
The upper eyelid embowed like a rainbow
The lower eyelid like an adventurous trail
Leading to the meeting point of euphoria

I wish to stream within his
Incomparable sclera, marvel at its
Enthralling composition, his pupils
Of paradise, his eyelashes emanating
With magic, such fathomage to drift
Into, how the strands of hair in eyebrows
Symbolize his horizonless power
His forehead bedecked with affection
His mesmeric head radiating with tasteful waves