there are pastel pink roses blooming on your dimples and i count stars in the craters bordering your lips and stars dancing over your nose and beneath your green gray gold eyes

your eyes are the same shade as a spring breeze rippling o'er rosewater forest ponds watercolors of green, honey and gray bursting at the tip of the brush and staining the whites of your eyes with breathless cubes of vertigo

there are tanned gold beaches in your cheeks, your face of caramel tangerine skin rusting in the desert sun and tropical heat

your hair is swirled of peach pits, dried figs, and chocolate milk

and the rain fell

and slipped into

the cracks of the

sidewalk where

they stay until

they fade away

like a memory

that will never

be remembered

your hair hang over your forehead like suspended waterfalls and they look like brown silk with the texture of liquid. but its your eyes your eyes your eyes your eyes. in them there is a meadow of gold surrounding a lush green forest under a gray gray sky and i want to run into them and get lost forever in the crowds and crowds of infinite trees.

and the rain fell

like torn kites

falling and falling

and falling and

falling until they

kiss the earth

where they fall

through the dirt

and bury them-

selves in their

own grave

but somehow you seem to brighten all the colors around me as if you are pouring honey from your lips and eyes and then we met eyes and i stopped breathing

but oh, it must have been a hallucination. it must have been

because your eyes are filled with the things you see and your eyes are filled with the epitome of beauty

it must have been a hallucination because i am not beautiful