Without, he would collapse.
He lived to see her smile,
Her dimples, his prized possession.
And her gaze, his will to survive.
The poems he wrote for her,
His words poured forth untethered.
He tried in vain to describe his love,
That felt incomplete is his verses.
And thus, he persevered with his deeds.
He cuddled her like he'd never let go,
Did her bidding before she spoke,
Her every wish was his command,
She was perfect, a dream, she was his,
And there was nothing more he desired.
He spoke about her all the while,
Never did she leave his thoughts alone.
Her voice and smell, the taste of her skin,
He carried with him, dawn to dusk and beyond.
How did I get so lucky, he sighed.
How did this angel become mine, he gasped.
Every minute of every day he worshipped her,
Like she was his God, not just His greatest gift.
And as time passed, his need for her grew,
Until it formed his skin and bones,
Without her he was nothing,
A shadow of the man he once was.
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