You are the stars and the moon
The cotton and the candy.
You are the marshmellow on the smore
And the super to man.
You are the chocolate chip to the cookie
And the Nutella stored under my bed.

However, you are not cute,
Athletic,
Or muscular.
And you are certainly not smart.
There is juist no way that you are smart.

It is possible the you are the boot in my closet
Maybe even a worthless fly
But you are not even close
To being a stud

And a quick look in the mirror will show
That you are neither the smile on my face
Nor the happy ending to my story.

It might interest you to know,
Speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
That my eyes are the crystals in your dreams.

I also happen to be the rock about to hit your face,
The sunset and the ocean,
And the cuties on my kitchen counter.

I am also the apple of your eye
And the voice in your head at night.

But don’t worry, I’m not the stars or the moon.
You are still the stars and the moon.
You will always be the stars and the moon,
Not to mention the cotton and –somehow- the candy.