Late PM

You gave me a poetry book filled with poems of the sea, and it is perfect, because the cover is rippled with water damage like wrinkles on a wise woman's forehead. You've told me that I am golden and I believe you, because I trust you. Your lively hair and lovely eyes beg for the truth like nothing I've ever seen before. This is layered, poetry about poetry, but it makes me laugh because no rhyme scheme or colorful collection of nouns verbs and adjectives could ever perfectly depict what I am trying to say.