Calliope, she's my Calliope.
Her black soft hair and tanned skin,
her perfect teeth and her curves.
The smell of coffee on her breath.
The stained blood on her scrubs,
and the tears of failing to save lives.
Tequila on her breath from a wild night.
The drunken haze in her brown eyes,
all self control gone in the night.
The way her soft hands make love to me.
Her voice that carries me and gets me
through the storms.
This is my Calliope Torres. This is my wife.