I look back at my poetry
The ones about sunshine
Strawberrys
And fresh breezes
To remind myself
That at some point
I was truly happy

You asked me why I like you
But I didn’t want to tell
Some of my reasons are cheesy...
But here is why I fell

I love the way your lips curve
When I make you smile
It makes me want to pull you close
And kiss you for awhile

I love the way your eyes twinkle
When you talk about things you love
I truely believe
You are a gift from above

I love that you are compassionate
You have such a big heart
That was the first thing I noticed
Right from the start

I love the way it feels
When you hold me tight
I finally feel safe
Like I could sleep through the night

I love that you don’t judge me
For my less than perfect self
That is more attractive
Than any amount of wealth

There are so many more reasons
But I’ll start with just this few
Maybe someday
I’ll give this poem to you

:)

Why do people love
            what they fear the most?

Because it makes them realize
               they are still alive.

I've encountered a beautiful poetry
the day I looked into your heart
I saw stories that could
make me listen in fondness
may deliver pain or happiness
yet it is worth every ounce of it
and unlike any other poems,
yours is the only one
that has the perfect rhyme,
a lullaby to my restlessness
just as the poetry itself,
the one upon you is mysterious.
still you are worth it;
you are worth seeking
I will devote discovering
every piece of you every day
Have I told you before?
I like poetry but...
yours is the one I will love endlessly

I love you.
you are the poetry that I need.

They will tell you
All poetry has been written
There is nothing new
Under the moon
But let me tell you
They don’t know you
You are as unique
As the DNA that exists
Within your frame
The ripples on your thumbprint
No one ever had the same.

Listen...

You have something to say
Say it proudly
Say it boldly
Never let them scold you.

Never let them make you go away.

the truth about summer
is that it always departs.

the truth about summer
is that is always comes back.

and you, like the summer
would always depart,
but the truth about you
is that you never came back.