You're worth more than a poem.
But for now,
I'll try my best to make this much more than just a poem:
but a message from me.

What you don't know is,
every time she feels down, she rereads all your kind words.
When she's bored, you're not on,
she rereads them.
She spends all her time thinking about you.
She cherishes you,
You're the best she ever had.

She takes everything about you,
devours them, slowly savoring all the good bits (which is everything),
and then keeps them tattooed all over me,
never to be removed.
Each and every letter, engrained onto me with a flourish,
a kiss,
trailing her hands behind, stroking the way the gorgeous letters look
all aligned together to make such beautiful sentences.

Her eyes trail every word,
her hands caress the wonder machine that brought her you,
her ears thrumming with the sounds of you,
the music notes floating into her ears,
the way water flows,
for you are better than just any ordinary ocean.

You may call her an ocean,
but you are more than that.
The ocean only takes up 75% of Earth.
You are much more.
You are her sky,
her universe.

You hold the stars in your heart,
twinkling like little rubies.
Just like the moon and the sun,
you see everything.
The clouds are your façade,
and the rain,
your tears.
Beautiful.

And all she wants to be is the satellite,
to explore you and learn everything about you,
to always circle around and around,
to never leave.

I know you won't break me,
or her.
And for that,
I am forever in your debt.
So come to me when you need me,
I will do anything to serve my prince.

With Great Love,
The Creep's Heart

I want him to know what I know,
This feeling in me, that only me knows,
If then, I could feel free,
I could forget that the world exists,
And just let go...

But only I know, and I know,
That I should not tell him so,
I know that this feeling in me,
I should just let it go...

Everything reminds me of you.
From the toothbrush with an "L" written with sharpie next to mine.
To the drawings that are by you on my wall.
The pictures of us around my room.
The little lion I bought when we went thrift store shopping.
From the diffuser I always tried to keep out for you when you came over.
To the pillow that I always left out of your side of the bed.
And the paintings you've made for me hanging up just under the fake record that you used to ask me to Homecoming this year.
From the many sticks of incense that I haven't burned, but I kept because they made me feel like you were here.
To the records you let me borrow, and now won't take back.
The nail polish you gave me that I wear on my fingers, which everyone says looks amazing on me, but I feel like it's nothing out you.
From the pens you love that I bought for you.
To the silly Sherlock Valentines from this year and last year.
The many pictures on my phone, that are mostly of you.
From the my blanket from my childhood that still smells of you.
To the many calls we've shared, I can't bear to delete that history.
But it would seem that all of our history is slowly deleteing,
Like an old computer whose hard drive is becoming too old and unable to hold all of its files anymore.
Is regaining love as easy as it would seem in the movies?
Hollywood baffles me and makes me believe that I may be able to get you back.
I hope Hollywood is right, because I miss you terribly.
Everything reminds me of you.