Poetry | When I Write About Love

Carve me a sculpture of your soul,

And in the perfect pitch black night

I’ll use an eternity for recognition.

With a sweeping palm stone flow,

On sculpted winds of the infinite,

I’ll move on you without permission -

I’m the kingdomless queen of my own heart,

All forgotten, every space unforeseen,

Just everlasting grooves of me and you,

Nature bound to the end as we were the start,

Satisfied as roses in their every hue.