To me heaven isn’t up above
It’s underneath our shared sheets
It’s my head on your chest and your hands in my hair
Your heartbeat the metronome to my songs
Your soul the muse to my poems
Your face the subject of all my art
Oh my love, the man you are
I’ve never imagined myself down so bad
Though I don’t intend on turning back
I’ll patch every hole of your fractured sole
The only bruises that shall be left by me
Are purple with love and marks of my teeth
You don’t need any fixing
Just need to loved
I’ll adore you even when we are angels above

