I'd appear on your house
  drenched in what the weather pours
  knocking on a door that I'm not sure that I'll feel the embrace of welcome
alas, for my presence is far greater
     than the weather man's forecast.

Then they'll see me
    holding my heart on my hands
hoping it'll spare me from their wrath
as I present on what's left of me
  and ask for the hand
of the other half of me.

If love was an eight hour shift
  I'd work overtime
just to see you

If falling in love with you means selling my soul
I'd pack my bags with snacks,
take a cab,
give a big tip and a high five,
walk gracefully
as I knock on your door
and bringing everything that I have
to offer it all for you

I'll tear my own ****  book
    if the next chapters of my life
don't have your name on it.

"Love" is the right word
for a man who tries to break all odds
in order to preserve the woman
  that made his reality
to a fantasy
he longed to grasp

I pray
  for that day
where my pillow
is no longer a substitute
for the other side of my bed
and only to wake up
with a dead arm
for holding you tightly.

To look you in the eyes
  and let it tell what my lips can't say
since it can't construct words when
it's busy kissing you

To hold you tight
     as I sway you under the city lights,
footsteps of people will be our beat
        and the moon
will be the audience.

Sit down
    have a drink or two
tell me that you love me
       as the flowers bloom