Love, Quietly

Your eyes are one
of the remarkable
bluest blue
that reminds me
of the depth
of the sea,
tear-like gaze
that tears my heart
apart from
my aching chest.

Your lips,
the reddest
pair of roses
I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Bleeding—
when kissed
ferociously
with your
little white teeth
nestled within.

Your strong nose,
peppered with
little freckles
on fair skin,
a face with
innocence,
stolen
by those
borrowed brows,
ever so dangerous.

Your body,
faint muscles rippling
within your
ivory button top,
black pants
sporting those
sturdy legs,
walking my way
with such confidence.

Describing you
in singularities
and adjectives
would pose as if
you were once mine.
However, simply
these delusions
brought forth to the
decadence of
my mind.

Who to blame?
For I am but a poet,
an author,
creating
series of fictions,
of longing,
of what it feels like
to be the receiving end
of your soft caress,
and love letters.

In the end,
you are just a figment
of my imagination,
never materialized,
But someone I wanted,
needed,
yearned for.
Yet, never there.
And I was…
only there.