3 am Poetry? (why not)

“Be my love,”  she whispered
Into the moonlit night.
“Be the comfort of darkness,
The excitement of light.
Be the warmth that embraces
When my heart starts to chill.
Be you, wonderful you.
Be my love, if you will.”

“Be my love,” she called
As the stars twinkled high.
“Be the curve of my lips, 
The sparkle of my eye. 
Be the journeys I travel,
The stories I share.
Be you, incredible you.
Be my love, if you dare.”

“Be my love,” she sighed, 
With a stray tear down her cheek,
Her heart pounding loudly, 
And no breath left to speak.
Though the only one listening
Was the sky above,
She knew the feeling would reach him.
“Come find me, my love.”