The only tree perfume

I see you.. and from a lip the day rests on a daring lip I gaze at your eyes in me so I see your face no matter how the lamp went out on us to stab water from before the army of rust is liberated and to turn in poetry so we surpass the weight of the bile and to strip from realism otherwise.. the shirt of metaphor has worn out! Why poetry?! And your name is deeper than to be said before the assembly..