There's a general trend in slash fandom to describe one or both of the leads in terms that border on the absurd; MA must have been in the throes of a particularly tiresome bout of this, because I wrote this in an afternoon.
I was looking at sonnets one day, trying to come up with some quotes to use as jumping-off points, I guess. This one (CXXX) has always been one of my favorites, for its frank refusal to call the beloved object something she's not. The point, of course, is that the poet loves her -- not what she does or doesn't look or sound like.
Nothing Like the Sun