He looks at her like she is the finest painting in all the Louvre, like Mona Lisa and the Birth of Venus combined.
When he says hello, what he means to say is: I wonder how long it took for God to carve out your cheekbones.
She blinks, he hears a melody coming from her eyelashes, it sounds like a choir in the heart of a church.
Her name is his new favorite word, how it sits comfortably in the back of his throat and rolls right off his tongue.
There is an ocean hidden in her eyes, a pool of happiness he cannot help but want to baptize himself in.
He saves her tears every time she cries; waters the flowers she has planted inside his heart.
Poem by: Carla Lupou