If beauty could ever be put into a word,
that word would be Rogue Cheney.
Because there is nothing about him that is simply
-just.
His hair is not just black;
it is the kind of darkness you get
when you go caving
and pass the point of natural daylight
and turn off your headlamp.
His skin is not just soft;
it is the texture of that 5000 dollar
wedding dress, the one you stared at for hours
and wished you had that kind of money.
His eyes are not just red;
they are glittering, glistening, gleaming
garnets against a January sky
and you can mix all the paints you like
but nothing can ever capture that colour.
His lips are not just chapped;
they are cracked and run through
with caverns as wide and deep
no, deeper than the Grand Canyon.
His jaw is not just strong;
it is Chuck Norris on performance enhancers
and could probably lift the weight
of the world off Atlas' shoulders.
His body is not just perfect;
it is a classical Hellenistic marble masterpiece
without a single chip
and billions would be paid to have it displayed.
His heart is not just hurting;
it is an organ caged by barbed wire
thorns digging into the flesh
and blood running down the cold steel lines.
He is not just beautiful;
he is the kind of broken disaster
that you want to place on an operating table,
take out your needle and thread
and gently sew back together.
(I know I'm pathetic, please leave me alone)
Instead of paying attention in class like most people do, I write poetry in the margins of my papers and recently they've all been centered around Rogue. So I thought, 'what the hell? I'll just dump them all on and see if any of his other fangirls appreciate what I'm going through!'
So yeah. From now on, this will become a collection of Rogue-centric poetry, dedicated to all the ladies out there who think he's marvelous :)