If My Poems Were Eulogies

If being pretty were a crime, you’d already be behind the bars
Because angels look at their reflection and wish they had your smile
And I’m not sentimental, but to you I must confess:
I’ve waited ages to find someone whose beauty can compare 
If my poems were eulogies, you’d be nothing short of dead
Because not romanticizing you would be lying to myself
And how could I not when you give me those eyes?
The look that makes me think that burning can feel fine
If hell is real, maybe we’ll meet there again
Because if being heavenly was a sin, that’s where you’d be sent 
And if to love you is to be doomed, then save me a seat in the flames
Because I wouldn’t mind going if it meant I’d meet you there

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