Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
I see joy reflected back at me.
Our twin irises squint into narrow halos.
I encircle you like an aperture sky.
You are beautiful.
You see beauty in yourself and in others.
You are beautiful.

We do not regard the rivulets or the divots in the countryside as blemishes.
They are as part of all I take in as the wind is composed of its own emptiness; the way the moon stores shade as it mirrors light;
the way every ocean crest is coupled by twin troughs.

In my time, I have seen time.
Its wrinkles, its waves, its squalls.
Hold still.

We will only ever have this moment.
It will never be enough.

I touch the water of your eyes and you peak like spring tide.
Your sun-kissed gaze showers me with the rays stored in the dimple of your cheeks.
I feel warm inside.

Elastic as the air we breathe, I speak with voiceless plosives, tense with perspicacity, parting the seas of your typhoon dreams.

Where shall we go from here?
Does beauty ever need to answer that question?

You are a city, growing, changing, impossible to flit through in an instant, captivated as I am by the sights, oh, the landmarks – oh, the history that drips off the horizon like a beading drop of water, flipping the world upon its head.

I should weep for all I know that will one day be lost.
I have dealt with the devil, learned nothing from Faust.

The cost of love is all I know to be true.

Soon, I will be swept away by the rivers that part ways in the channels of your heart. Rivers so great they drink my tears like rainfall.

Until then, let me stay but for a spell, perched above the plaza.
Let me face the sunsets here until they kiss my cheeks crimson too.

Every sunset, I blush when I think of you.