She's heaven to my eye. In silence this sweet ache. Smiles and whispers of my name become the agony of bliss enthusiasm that brings. To know she has my soul. This quiet girl. When pretty became my eyes canvas. The noise is there but I hear you beyond the oblivion. Your voice. This softness that was beautiful in a painting of words. Just to belong to the canvas a artist's hands slowly ache to mold. This forbidden mistress that cried to be poetic Divinity with just a flutter. Butterflies fireflies. While she's the heaven like sweetness. Falling. Knowing it's bottomless. Knowing she's the friend that people dream. Yet we're both the ghosts no one sees. Till lovesick so becomes our eye in the quiet.