Like a pint of Guiness

This love for you can’t be contained;
To seconds, or hours, or minutes.
I cannot package up as a car,
or ring, gift or gimmick,
It outruns that drum of doubt,
And the clash of every cynic.
And it may never be topped up enough;
Just like a pint of Guinness.

My heart does not follow the beat,
Instead, the beat follows my heart.
And your light does not pull me out,
Though it pushes down the dark.
If a picture paints a thousand words,
Then you are every piece of art.
And I may never find the words of you,
But consider this a start.