To be loved by a writer
Is to be immortalized
You will live on forever in her writing
Your quirks,
Your ideas,
Your insecurities,
Writers notice everything
And we never forget
You might catch her smiling at you
For what seems like no reason at all
But she's just trying to describe
The exact color of your eyes

To be loved by a writer
Is to have your entire relationship in written word
All you have to do is read and re-live everything again
Your first kiss,
Your first fight,
Your first date
Nostalgic memories in chronological order
And you may even learn something you never knew
Since everything will be in her point of view

To be loved by a writer
Is to see her frustration
Because she wishes she could be an artist
Since no words serve you justice
She wishes she could just paint a picture
And then they would understand
Because no amount of words could perfectly depict
Your hair sticking up,
Your abundance of freckles,
You wearing glasses
She gets upset when she thinks
She'll never fully portray all the things you say and do
But she'll never run out of ways to say "I love you"

To be loved by a writer
Is to be eternal
And to never fully disappear
And no matter what, she'll see you everywhere
Even when she opens her mind and escapes reality
Because she is the writer
And you are her writing
For you own her heart
From which her words flow

My family is taking me out
In search of a brand new suit
One in which they can bury me in
I'll be leaving here real soon

You can tell it in my walk
You can see it in my eyes
If I last more than another month
Even I will be surprised

You can hear it in my rasp
You can smell it on my breath
Not a whole lot of need to ask
Who it is that's kissing death

That's why they feel the urgent need
To go out and buy me a brand new suit
Something that will match my casket
Something in a baby blue

She isn't particularly bright
In a standardized test sense,
But she shines like helium-hydrogen
To him without pretense.

Her humor needs some work
To give him belly aches.
At least she takes the fall
When he laughs at her mistakes.

She isn't very clean,
Very orderly, very neat.
Without her, he'd be disheveled.
She makes their home complete.

She's very kind, a lovely heart
To those that she will meet.
She feels she can still do better
To those cast on the street.

She is her toughest critic,
Much harsher than the rest.
Not a thing he wouldn't change,
He knows she tries her best.