I've tried a great many times to capture my lover's beauty in these poems of mine, but none has quite captured his true beauty.
To speak truthfully to you, I do not think that feeble words would ever capture his loveliness.
As I'm writing these words down,
I see the stars outside my window.
I see the moon glaring down at me.
Angry, perchance.
Jealous, more like it.
For who are they to compare with my love?
It is a hopeless matter.
They frown upon me tonight because despite their numerous pursuits,
They could never shine the way he does.
My love, who illuminates the darkest corners of this earth. Who creates the colors with his mind. Who touches my eyes and lets them see.
I used to look at the world in such a tedious way.
Soundless. Colorless. Loveless.
But upon meeting a boy, a very special boy-
Actually.
In the most poetic way, fuck that. He is not just some boy. He is my boy, my beautiful boy,
And it does seem that I'd very much have to fess up indeed.
Suddenly I hear the sweet melodies of his whispers.
The color of his eyes. I might very well think that none of the colors in this damned world are quite as beautiful as his eyes.
His love. I awoke one day and there was love. Standing in front of the door to my heart. As if it has been waiting there for a long, long time. Waiting as if has always been waiting. For me.
If I left one thing behind in this life,
one confession,
one truth,
one reality,
is that there will never again be such beauty as that of my lover's.
Make your arguments and stand tall in them, but I'll recite these words until I breathe my last breath.
Oh, but how I wish he would hold the same truth. I wish I could make him understand the brilliance he carries.
The brightness of him.
His intelligence, his thoughts, his emotions, his passion.
Oh, I adore it all.
The love I have for him is a perpetual ocean. My heart drowns nearly every day. But my lover, oh my sweet, kind lover brings life to my dead body. Like spring touching the cherry blossoms, so does he too touch my soul.
The winter has left these bones. Love now runs through these veins. And admiration. So much admiration.
And sweet, oozing nectar collects in my mouth when I taste his honeyed devotion. So addicting that I am high nearly every night.
What a honor I deem it, that I may wake up the next day to experience the entirety of him, all over again.
I think he truly is the loveliest boy in the history of forever.
YOU ARE READING
Dearest.
RandomA butchered tongue, still singing here above the ground. Singing of all that you've done for me. All the ways in which you have saved me.
