... because my socks don't match

Your mind is of reason
Mine is of imaginings
You have logic and rules
I have chaos and wonder

I wonder how you cannot see the magic
Of cascading leaves in autumns hues
Or the lure of a solitary rose in bloom
To you it is biology, nothing more

Am I wrong to wish you truly saw
The color of my hair
When brought to life by a fickle breeze
Under summers golden sun
Or for you to see more in my eyes
Than their physical being

Is it just vanity that longs
To hear your love of me
In metaphor and verse
Filled with a dreamscape of desire

Or a canvas 
adorned with your idea of me
Pure colors and form

Though I know
If you were an artist
We would make love for hours
Feeling the waterfalls of passion
Break upon our flesh
You would know my curves by heart
As you commit them to page
We would whisper
sweet nothings of angel dreams

But we would not last
For an artist could never tame
My fluctuating moods
Passions of desire would turn
To fury

But you my dear scientist
Have captivated me
For I cannot understand you
And you seem baffled by me

Once, I asked you why you loved me
You told me a thousand different reasons
That never make sense
Like , my socks never match
And my energy never tires
But mainly
Because my logic defies reason and I am simply me