“I love you.”
“I know.”
Between the highs,
And the low,
In the times
When I’m alone,
That’s what love does.

It comforts,
And hides
In the corners
Of your mind,
Yet surprises
Just in time.
That’s what love does.

It takes
The chance
The percentage
Of circumstance,
The sacrifice
In glance,
And does what love does.

It conquers,
And pays
The cost,
Without delays,
As if it’s not much,
To stay,
Because that’s what love does.

It hugs,
It kisses,
It sees you
And misses,
Yer true love,
Rarely disses,
Because that’s what love does.

One day, your hand will be mine to hold, with no care as to who may see; your name will be the sweetest name upon my lips and the most endearing of my thoughts.

One day, you’ll hold me, as I should be held, and I’ll be proud to be encompassed by your embrace; your eyes will still be the kindest sight I could gaze upon.

One day, with your ear softly nestled in the palm of my hand, I’ll hold your head closer, as you kiss me like I should be kissed; your hair will brush like satin ribbons through my fingertips.

Your warmth will be my favorite season; your shampoo, my favorite scent; your shoulders, my favorite shape; you, my favorite sensation.

One day, you’ll pledge yourself to me, and only me, and I’ll be proud to call you mine. Our mornings and nights will become my favorite time of day.

Dinner won’t just be a meal; a date won’t just be on a calendar; "goodnight" will no longer mean "goodbye."

One day, life will still go on, and work will continue, but it will all be with you, so life and all that it contains will be better. Sunsets will glow brighter, your arms will hold me tighter; the lake, even more so, will glisten, and to your soft words, I will gladly listen.

One day, with a dream, but, more importantly, with each other, your family, your future, will be mine, will be ours.

One day, in each day, we’ll be one, because you are the one for my every day.

I don't write to myself.
I don't write for a shelf.
I write for strangers in an electronic abyss.
I don't write to take care.
I don't write just to share.
I write to hide behind metaphorical bliss.
I don't write for my friends.
I don't write for the trends.
I write sometimes because I am just bored.
I don't write 'cause I'm good,
but maybe I should
write for me, what I want, instead of making it a chore.

You know, I haven't written in a while.
It's been hard, because I don't know what makes me smile
anymore. I see one's eyes, feel his fingers through my hair,
while, on another note, I cannot forget how another one cared.
I thought love was something that I once knew,
until my love for my best friend suddenly grew.
I fought and I argued and I justified the means,
but now my heart hurts from hearing my head's screams.
I'm torn, I'm broken, and my heart has been shattered.
I don't know what to think, as my romantic thoughts scatter.
I can't help that one is so close of the two,
but also can't help but wonder if the One is You.
Eenie, meenie, miney, mo;
why were you the one to go?
Why is another one so close by?
How can you both cause my heart's cry?
The time is not now, so I'll wait for it's end,
but it's difficult when some want to be more than friends.
I wonder if this collision is sometimes inevitable,
but if this is it, how could I feel so terrible?
I don't hate the kindness or subtle ways of affection,
but it feels like that's the surface of this overwhelming infection.
One overtakes me completely, working hard with great intention,
while another barely speaks, and he has all of my attention.
Which love is greater? Is there such a love as this
that can take my breath away with a subtle little miss,
or is it of another, the one who gives me all his time
to sweep me off my feet while the ground is one my mind?
Am I falling in love or caught in it's memory?
Can I call it quits now, or still wait for my legacy?
If I knew, I wouldn't be ranting in a poem.
I just wish I had closure, so I could better know Him.