Love can be imperfectly imagined
With perfectly imperfect face:
With nourished dark brows
Above the hazel-brown eyes
That sparkle when the sun's rays
Hit them as they open every six in the morning,
Complementing the medium-sized nose
That aligns to the philtrum above that rosy lips
Where I often hear
The heavenly sweet laughs
That attracts the colony of ants from my mouth
Where the sinew of honey flows down
Towards my drouth lips.
The jaw bones that compliment
The visage of that lovely face
And how they draw contours on that kingly face.
That face of love that keeps me awake at night
As I stare at the love's face
Being lighted by the moon's light.
I am being captived with it
without its' notice.
From day to night
All I can imagine is that face of love:
Perfectly imperfect,
The face that stares to me
Sometimes with furrowed eyebrows
sometimes with sweet smiles,
sometimes with its bubbly eyes
shouting with grief and pain,
but what hurts me more
Is when I see this face of love
Says goodbye,
Because of my unwillingness to hide,
To hide from my selfish desire,
Desire to bother this love of mine.
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