You make me feel drawn and quartered,
sending me to all four corners of the galaxy.
In love and war, you give me no quarter,
I’m not half the man I thought I was, I’m a quarter.

You make me look smarter the way a tuxedo
can show that I chart my own charter.
Loving you is like walking a high tightrope –
it’s a hard barter but the vista is like no other.

I’m smothered by pure wind – an angel’s breath away from flying,
a hair’s breadth away from dying – but I can see farther
than any landlubber. I just can’t look down – it’s forbidden.
For if I fall, I will land harder than any martyr’s mother.

I’ve been bitten by a love-bug so I feel stung
when my cheeks blush, I’m not kidding –
It’s like I’m a kid bidding his mom to let
him eat the forbidden cookie dough in the kitchen.
Lucky licking. You’re butter dripping.
And I’m thinking how can I get more of you into my system?

I’m insistent on walking a straight line but
on a tightrope what you need is rhythm.
So you can bounce in time
like knowing how to land on a beat with a fresh rhyme.
Or knowing when to pass the mic to an MC
who can speak to the moment with some truer lines.

What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours.
Household chores feel like foreplay.
My romantic regimen is a mix of making you
moan in bed
and serving you coffee when you wake up every day.

I love the way you love my way of being.
I love that we see each other’s way of seeing.
Some days I swear I’m dreaming.
Can you tell me are you seeing what I’m seeing?

It’s like I stumbled toward a mirage and found an oasis teeming
with fauna and flora fit for a corsage
and I thought to myself “Oh my God!” even though
I don’t have the confidence of any god.

Faithless atheist baiting higher powers with a lightning rod.
Show me what you got!