i long to write thousands of breathtaking metaphors about you,

but you always seem to stump me.

to what can i compare your features?

flowers? fruit? freedom?

i picture your angelic smile and writer's block crashes into me at 100 miles per hour.

even "like" or "as" are no help to my hopeless heart.

my only reality is that you snatch the oxygen from my lungs and breathe the life back into me,

all at the same time.

i guess we're getting there.