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