and his hair is black like my eyeballs,
He is the opposite of by body,
and the mirror of my soul,
He's eaten in my shadow
and tastes as delicious as honeydew.
His brain is always functioning,
and he doesn't lose his version,
In the dark he smiles
to make ghosts shiver,
His arms are soft pillows
that let me cry, sigh, and fly in the sky.