Looking up into the starry skies I see far less beauty than in your eyes
or your thighs
or your delicious pies.
Frankly I find more beauty in my lies, lately
than in the skies.

They’ve been awful gray,
is what I’m saying.
There’s no inveigling the celestial lights out again.
The fight’s been lost,
the cost too high
and the sky not worth seeing.
Not with you being so close to me.
Thank you for being so close to me.

This is not one of those lies I spoke of.
This is a truth. This is of love.