I'm Just Talking, I'm Sorry

She was as soft as the night sky
and shone like its deep blue velvet,
she was as sweet as a wooden “I love you"
carved into a domesticated oak mountain.
She was as honest as the crimson signature
scribed across her collarbone,
                as honest as a spiderweb’s glimmer
                under an Arizona moon baked to perfection.
She was the red stains plastered in my wine glass.
She was the black and the gray on Charlie Chaplin.
She was the foliage, the wind, the morning dew;
she was the midnight twinkle glazed over Chicago,
she was the chocolate vibe under mahogany hair,
she was the ocean and I was the Earth,
     and her soul nourishes my skin,
     and her life makes me more beautiful.