Miraculous you.

Lately I've found it harder to rhyme.
Convincing myself I had not the time.
But instead, now I know the reason behind...

You need not words.
Nor rhythm, metre, structure or form.
No need to force myself into the shadows of others' amourity.
Because it's you.
Just miraculous you.

I can't glamourise our love,
Or adorn it with trinkets and couplets.
It is natural.
Natural like not needing similes.
Natural is no metaphor.

But it is my skin.
It is part of me and I am within it's secure hold,
So close that without any part of it leaves me
Gushing with remorse and longing to rebuild that part,
To have you back again.

You.
Just miraculous, insatiable, can't-breathe-without you.