Purple, White Blueberry Skies

What I have come to discover as the definition of perfection.

In the distant night spark,
where at once I lay my head.
I come to join you now,
on your patchwork couch-made bed.

With my head there on your body,
my soul there in your mind,
we are at once together here,
our lives endlessly entwined.

You read your wondrous books,
absorbing, between lines.
Of a painter and his brother,
of stunners and their looks
of Paris streets and cafes
and a few metaphoric signs.

And now the night is sprawling,
in chilling autumn skies.
We share at once our secret words,
before dawn's breaking comely lies.

I've come to you as a poet,
full of dreams, full of life.
and you've poured your wisdom inside of me,
up and down within this blood,
beautiful and rife.

My lines have no meter,
and almost never rhyme.
My portrait echoes back
yearning for another long lost time.
My brushstrokes can be lacking,
My skin dulled and gray.

Yet closest to my timid ways,
to your starry eyes,
we live together eternally,
as the world lives on, then dies.