A Love Poem: 2 of ∞

From Goethe, my favorite color is fit to disturb rather than enliven
the color of the eyes that gaze upon you and believe that seeing you every second is not seeing you enough,
is a disturbance.

But:

There is no disturbance in being your bride,
no madness in loving the color of your cheeks in the the wintertime
or the color of your freckles in the summer,
both as much as part of you as hydrogen is,
a necessity for your existence and my hand in matrimony.

There is only a house made of the softness of our feline children
and my golden locks
and your pink ones
which fruitlessly, and with great effort,
attempts to contain
endless stellar oceans of my love,
all tinted an ink-dark blue.