My Disability In Front Of Your Beauty Poem by Rodrig Andrisan

You used to touch me in the morning,
with your fluff as baby chicken,
trying to heal the wound of my soul,
then to go back to the other side,
falling asleep again in my arms,
a little less divine extensions of The Big Guy Above.
That's how HE used to spoil you, HE's spoiling you right now again
and HE will always do that, without your knowledge,
that's why you keep looking for HIM, in your naivety, otherwise beneficial,
inside churches,
built by people.
I am a living church bearer,
It is in the depths of my soul.
I should be the happiest man on earth for this,
but my body is mortal,
and you do not want to be my gorgeous godess,
to take you and plant you in the vase of immortality,
to grow only for me, in secret,
to flog with me the alphabet of love,
evolve with me, stealthily,
embraced in vacuum, under the sky-roof,
and then, to humbly lose myself on your rich chest,
to grow a child of you and me...