That one wonderful hug,
Made my whole entire week,
You came to my side and picked me up,
When the stress began to peak,
It was like knifes in my side,
Knowing I couldn't see you,
I dropped my mind somewhere in the darkness,
Till everything around me turned a sad blue.
These last couple days there's no more blue.
Just a whole lot of love.
And a whole lot of you.

I've always loved watching the sunset.
I suppose the same way I love watching your eyes close,
as we dive in for a long, velvet like kiss.
They're almost synonyms of each other,
They possess the same beautiful waves of bright, torrid, purple and pink,
exploding in the sky,
and through out my mind
and then one final, soft crescendo of descending darkness.

I've always loved watching the moon rise,
I suppose you are the moon,
my radiant flame guiding me through the dark,
always there,
as our hands embrace one another and intertwine
like two shooting stars, crossing the same night sky,
never worrying about where they may end up next.

But as much as I love the sunset,
and I love the moon,
neither compares to the beautiful princess I see in front of me,
when the sun rises,
and our eyes creak open,
like the flash of day through that dreary window.

One day I glanced in the mirror,
and what I saw was hard to believe,
there was not just one person in my glaring reflection,
there was two,
who was the other person?
to my satisfaction,
it was you.
You wrapped your beautiful self around me,
and said "Baby don't fret."
I suppose we are one now,
and I have no regret,
because simply put,
you are perfection,
And I have come to love everything
about my new found reflection.

I was going to write
But the words got caught in my throat on their way to paper,
I choked
And vomited them across the floor.
I tried to pick up the pieces,
As I did, words scrambled around each other,
What was meant to say evil
Turned Into love when I accidentally picked up an O , instead of an I.
Deviltry and liar  got lost in the mess and all I got out of both was alive.
I guess all I'm trying to say is, everyone is going to collapse.
When you do collapse, picking up the pieces is only half the battle.
Sometimes you have to pick up the right pieces.
Sometimes you have to leave your deviltries and the liars out of your life,
So you can finally love being alive.
Sometimes you have to choke on the wrong words,
In order to pick up the right letters.

I tried to sing you a song
a ballad of love,
I use ballad loosely, of course,
For my voice was hoarse
and my pitch was squeaky,
"I think you're tone death" you proclaimed,
with a cute, little, laugh.
"You must be blind" I said,
"I just kicked that song's ***!"  
Yet deep down I know the only *** kicked today was mine,
those chords ran me over,
and didn't even ask for the time.
But still as I was becoming great friends with the ground,
you picked me up,
you brushed the dirt off my shoulder
and washed the blood off my knees,
I must say, I was very pleased.
I guess what we learned from today is that my singing ability may need improvement,
and this rhyme, in all its amusement, may be a little cheesy,
But baby, we make this real life ballad of love
look oh so easy.