My Lover's Eyes

My lover’s eyes are nothing like the sea,
His lips, poutier than mine, appear brass
He isn’t stacked, my man is more like a tree.
His hair sticks up like a field full of grass.

Some men have skin like dark wood, but not he.
Truly, paler than snow is his cheek’s hue.
His mouth has the taste of sour coffee,
Thinly disguised by an Altoid or two.

Not rich and deep is his voice, but if loud,
He goes high, like a mosquito whining.
He doesn’t walk regally, tall and proud,
Rather, his gait is hunched, from hours typing.

I may laugh at him when he struts his stuff,
But his love for me is sexy enough.

Conversation with my Main Character

I'm sorry, my darling. It's been four chapters and I've yet to name you. To be frank, your name wouldn't change your behavior thus far, but it will determine your choices in the future. But this is why you don't have a name. I know how important it is. If I didn't care about it, I'd just call you "Sarah" like all the other authors who wanted a special character with a bland name. You are special, but you have been overlooked throughout your life. People overlook bland names. But I do want you to be unique, so I can't choose a worn-out, bland name. I've tried several, but none fit you. You are just as picky as I am. You have horrible spelling, by the way.