Psalms

God is love,
and this is whence
she watches out
upon the world,

from pearls-

in her eyes,
in her lips,
in her smiles.

Good things come to those that wait,
but miracles come to those who are patient.

Do you know what it feels like to be a poet, and be at a loss of words? I think she does, and she should know I do to. I feel like I lose my form every time we speak. Like my feet have been swept out from under my stances.

I'm enchanted,
by her voice,
and her glances.

I think she might
not understand
her own immaculacy.

I'm barely scratching the surface,
but I can feel the tides turning
to calms.

She's a klepto
with her hands,
on my heart.

I want to touch you softly,
until you feel these songs,
I've got locked up in my blood
flood your arteries.

I think you're perfect: worth more than all the verses I will ever pen while on this earth. I would burn them all, to fall, in love, with you. I have lost my footing and I'm falling,

for you;

you are of the stars I saw shooting.
I have caught one in my arms.

It is but a flesh wound,
and she's got God,
in her heart.

She can cross,
these lines I've drawn
in the sands.

I want you more than anything I ever have. I know there is no match for this hand, on my heart; I swear, to God.

I will be faithful.