Pulchritudinous

I can't help but to look at a picture of this pulchritudinous woman.

All the things she makes me feel are nothing shy of being human.

We knew this would be hard at times, coordinating our moments alone.

We're writing letters, with pen, on paper, and talking on the phone.

Engaging secretly in quiet places shows us each our devious faces.

Yet, it holds together a truer foundation built over the years of missed embraces.

With a fondness and devotion towards the care of one another's heart.

This love we share is saddest in the bittersweet moments when we part.

I holdfast to the way I love her and keep resolute with my constitution.

She sees me for the way I am and this frees her from tired absolution.

We're building something, a future perhaps, we're seeing each other's greater potential.

Our fledgling love has known distance as friends and as lover's our time spent is sentimental.

Logic does not hold rhythm to love, though in ways it helps meld the heart to the mind.

It helps us read each other's glances and gets us through distances so unkind.

This fragile tryst we have together has potential to end in unhappy disaster.

But, I'd rather know I'm true to myself by showing her love that serves no master.