there are shelves of classics all around the bedroom but none that can hold a candle to you

works by the greatest poets in history, yet none have even come close to the majesty of you

it’s your spine i would like to run my fingers down, your soul i wish to mine the secrets out of alone

you are everything they tried and failed to describe, the curves of their lines no match for your own

they maybe classic, but you are perfection, they may know all the words but you define them

of all the books i have read, all the covers gently held, the book of you is the one i wish to memorize