Can I tell you a secret?
Please promise you’ll keep it.
I’ve kept it deep within,
But now I should preach it.
There’s a girl whom I love,
An angel from above.
Although things may get tough,
I’ll never get enough
Of her infectious touch,
Her dimples when she blushes,
Never have I felt such
Love and affection so much.

I feel her presence from a distance.
She walks in the room
And brings tranquillity into existence.
She has the ability to make a man’s heart
Beat to the tune of her melody.
She carries an energy
That is reviving and thriving.
It’s more like a remedy.
Her eyes cut off all ties
That chain me to the world’s abominations.
Her voice makes my spirit rejoice
Because she somehow frees me from my tribulations.
She’s capable of things that I fear
Only I am able to comprehend.
People tell me it hurts to love her
But I have a love for hurt
So it’s all really a perfect blend.

A heavenly body that slipped out
Of the Lord’s pocket of blessings.
A soul that this condemned world
Will never come to deserve.

Her dimples make the moon feel jealous,
‘Cause its craters could never be as perfect as hers.
It tries to win me over with its many phases
But I couldn’t care less,
‘Cause if everyone saw how beautiful her face is,
They’d agree it deserves a place among the stars.
You’d swear that, for her, God required assistance
From all his angels that were skilled in His craft,
Because compared to the rest of mankind
She is the true perfect creation
And we are merely rough drafts.
Yes, I said what I said, and that’s what she means to me.

She means more to me than lustful ecstasy and typical boy fantasies.
Things like multiple intimacies built on illegitimacy
Or the bachelor’s bliss of freedom and a poolside with Hennessey.
To me she is a pulchritudinous celestial being of elegance
That compares to no other.
In simple terms she is my friend, my soulmate and lover;
And by God’s grace my future children’s mother.

This isn’t your typical poem of a poet writing about his muse.
It’s an art form, a revelation and the truth.
It’s what Van Gogh intended to do when he picked up his paintbrush and painted his blues.
It’s a tell-all about a precious soul that’s worth more than the value of gold.
It’s for the same reason that Noah had to take every animal in the world in twos.
It’s an act of benevolence that I believe mankind is ready to behold.
It’s a purpose, it’s salvation, it’s enlightenment, it’s…
It’s me,
It’s me opening your eyes up to see what I see.

So can I tell you a secret?
Please promise you’ll keep it.
The girl whom I love is you who is reading,
The angel from above is to whom I am speaking.
A beautiful child, a flower that’s wild
And a flavour that never grows mild.
All of these are things I realised from the moment you smiled.

So please fall into my hands, apple of my eye.
Let me taste your succulent juices before I die.
For a moment with you is what it means to be alive.
So gift me a second, two or maybe even five.
Just be with me here, apple of my eye.