I look at her as if her eyes were the stars,
and the sky was the contour of her face,
and the clouds were her lips upon release.
I kiss her as if her breath was a zephyr,
and her lips were the petals of a flower,
which might drift with a gossamer breeze.
I hold her as if her sighs quaked the earth,
and her trembling hands were ocean tides,
that at her whim, might break me asunder.
I lie with her as if her form was a cloud,
and her heaving breath was a silent storm,
that with my kiss, would turn to thunder.