Portrait later

Eyes last night, caught scent of locust blossom and summer cherries taste your lips. I want to be perfect, but your face still has imperfections. I wish to make to exist: to be fallen from the face do not know what time your eyes gold as a good dream desert, lips red as sunset summer and smile .... to run slowly on your cheeks pale, sick of love. Let me touch image as would be a final tribute to my heart as you seek perfection. Your hands caress my bones dried out fine for the search so lost in the deepest pit of your heart. My ear sing singing I do not want, but my soul love drawing.