Lovers are like two puzzle pieces that catch in the morning light.
(Some lovers tend to hide in the shadows of their pride.)
My longing glints gold under the sun (much like your watch) and brags its pink hue. It saturates itself with every attempt to mute it.
(It's so bright that it's blazing - it burns. How can you stay near a fire and still feel cold?)
Forget all else - come, dip your fingers in ink and then - drag them across paper and see how many times I've written your name - how many times I've missed you - and been ashamed.
(Admit it - your hands would look better around mine.)
So catch me - catch me before daybreak so we can still be strangers in the light, because that's how you like it.