I just love him so much.
Is there even a poem to write??
Are there even words to say??
When I am with him,
I can't stop smiling.
And when we are apart,
I feel like crying.
I'm so happy.
For the first time ever,
I am so happy.
I know none of you needed to know that,
But I couldn't keep it in
Any longer.
I love him so much.

My bed feels so empty without you in it.

Even if nothing
Ever comes from this.
If that is all I get,
It will be nice
To remember something beautiful.
If all I ever get
Is that moment in your arms,
Then I have lived a thousand years,
And I have led a thousand lives.

I'm not exactly sure what love is.
I don't know what it is supposed to feel like.
But I know this.
Every time I see you,
My palms start sweating uncontrollably
And I wonder how in hell
I am ever supposed to hold your hand
If being yards away from you
Does that to me.
When I see you,
I swear "Dream Weaver" starts playing
In my head.
Whenever I see you,
I feel like I have to puke,
And it's the best feeling ever.
Every time I am done
Spending time with you,
I have to *** right away from nervousness.
But there's not a single person
I am more comfortable around.
When I am around you,
I spend more time
Covering up the teeth I'm so insecure of
Than I do talking to you.
I don't do that around anyone else,
But then again,
No one makes me laugh as much as you do.
When I see you,
I start thinking of different cheesy quotes
From different cheesy Rom-Coms,
And pray to God
That you haven't seen those movies,
So on the one in a billion chance
That I am actually brave enough to say something,
You won't realize how unoriginal I am.
Whenever I am with you,
And you ask me if I agree with what you said,
I'm lying.
I have no idea what you've just said.
I was too busy counting the wrinkles
Around your eyes
(Because wrinkles are my favorite, you know).
When you hug me,
I feel like crying.
WHY DO I FEEL LIKE CRYING?!
I have no idea what love is.
But let me tell you,
This feels pretty **** close.

These paint strokes
Birth poetry--
Art competing for art,
When all you want
Is to be a great artist,
But you are pulled
From morning
To night
With every cycle of the moon.
You've no friends left,
And all you have left to wear
Is a pair
Of canvas shoes
And a pair
Of paper wings.
A sound like
A baby crying
Calls you out into the streets.
You pull on your paper wings,
And step out into the rain.

He spies her in the crowd,
The girl he had hoped to forget.
Her bones are still as delicate
And her breathing
Just as shallow
As when he saw her last.
At night
She is most beautiful,
For she always raises her eyebrows
A bit higher
Once the moon shows face.