My fiancé is a poet

His heart drips metaphors 
that only I could understand 
He leaves commas and fullstops in the right places of my soul
during our conversation of varying lengths
and the beautiful wall of silence he builds 
when words fail him
with a door only me can walk through
understanding what he means
He loves me in symbols 
His prayer is one that goes through heaven’s doors
Asking the Lord to preserve me for him
His innocent touch is symbolic of him telling me to stay
asking me to trust him with the littlest and the most
His smile and laughter is a prose that draws my attention to the needful
one that assures me of the ease felt when loving well and genuinely

His stare is a symbolism screaming 
I’ve got you and when he says I love you, 
It is heavy and not light
A suitcase to be unpacked

Then the imagery he draws each time he stands by my side 
towering over me and hugging me till I wilt and reform
reminds me of a love I thought I had jeorpadissed long ago
My fiancé is a poet 
He has placed several rings on my finger
without placing a ring on my finger 
Then he has placed one ring all over me
Saying would you be mine forever on this side of eternity
with the loveliest of diamonds marking his promises
*If my 
fiancé becomes a poet*

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