A poet in love
is like an arsonist
With a match in his hand.

I wish i could capture the way you look at me
And cram it into a frame
So that i could wake up feeling
Beautiful, every single day.

I refuse to follow a trail where everyone else has
Crushed their individuality
firmly into the ground,
Silenced their hopes and dreams
so they no longer make a sound.

You do what you please,
but darling I'll blaze a trial so bright
it'll dull the suns light
And bring the trees to their knees.

If i could, i would,
Disassemble your malfunctioning thought processes
And rewire them back together again, 
With a spanner, in the manner,
That meant you were not
Classed as insane.
I'd unfold and rearrange,
The chemical imbalances
Within your brain
So that the years of disdain,
And self blame,
Where a thing of the past,
I'd put you back together,
In a way, that showed you,
You were meant to last.

I am the picture stamped firmly to the insides of your eyelids so as you close those intoxicating eyes to kiss her, you'll be tripping with me in the mixture.

Nobody takes a picture of regrets they wish to forget.

Your mother
Twinkles in the pupils of your eyes
your father resonates
in the rivers that they cry.