Momowords

Beauty isn’t physical,
Isn’t to be measured.
And yours above all,
Must be treasured.

Tell me your love is not cruel.
You needn’t – it does not exist.
Against you, I must constantly duel
But am shrouded by mist.

The mist around your heart,
It lies, it deceives.
You are a work of art,
Which my heart perceives
As love and devotion.
You hold a king’s power,
Your beauty is your throne
Raising you up – tall as a tower.

Tell me, can I ever change the path,
My soul has set for my coming years?
You needn’t – I can always count on your wrath,
To make my heart spill tears.

(Just to clarify, that was a partial rewrite of a previous poem I posted here titled “A King’s Throne Is As Cold As His Heart”)

You are brighter than all moons,
Your clothes as black as the runes
Decorating your skin – clear as the pale night.
I am able to find my way, guided by your witchlight.
Oh the people you’ve saved, the things you’ve destroyed.
You saved me from myself and filled up the void
Growing in my empty heart. By the angel,
I owe you my life, son of Raziel.
Your touch makes the power of your stele dim.
I am yours as you are mine, dear Nephilim.

Before, we were a book without a word.
As my magic drew you in,
Your runes put a spell on me.
Now, we are as limitless as the world.

For this, my dear, is my favourite combination:
Your hair; as black as the night sky,
Your eyes; as blue as the sea.
And you, my dear, are the epitome of perfection.

Where we now stand, you stood.
I was lonely, when you found me,
You were lost, when I found you.
We are one, Alec Lightwood.