She’s beautiful she’s this poem written by the gods to express perfection, and all you can do is sit there and admire as your eyes try to decipher the sacred text that is her being. Mere seconds with her equates to hours of dread when she’s not near as time passes beyond the understanding of impatience. Her lips contain a toxin that seeps into your very being the moment they make contact , a dopamine that can’t be recreated as the feeling lingers in your veins awaiting her once more. She has a certain sweetness that can’t be found in a field of flowers. The kind of sweetness that purifies the ocean floor and fulfills a stranded sailors thirst. She resembles the first breath you take after being submerged underwater. I know not of heaven but the sight of her smile, the crest in her cheeks and the ethereal tone of her laughter. Seeing the wind flows thru her hair and slip between her fingers, you come to envy it. Darling, I hear her voice way in the distance as she’s not in reach but she’s there waiting, calling for me to rest.