You’re a walking poem
and it’s like I have night vision
except instead of goggles they are
only I can see you,
your arms and legs strings of sentences
bare with candid sincerity,
your hair tangled weaknesses
curled with a simile
and eyes of endearing desire
marked with a metaphor,
poetic sentiment hanging off you
like unwashed clothes.
Your mouth breathes out symbolism,
when you walk, the line breaks jingle
and when you hug me I can feel myself
being wrapped in a charming mystery
that sounds so pretty when read aloud.
When you stop, I stop
and gather all the fallen words
in a basket I keep around my waste
marked Beauty.

by Zoe Nyght

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